


Never Had It So Good

by startingatthe_end



Category: Degrassi, Degrassi: Next Class
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2018-10-19 18:36:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 58,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10645668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startingatthe_end/pseuds/startingatthe_end
Summary: The mysterious charming brunette across the hall manages to convince Tristan to spend spring break pretending to be his boyfriend at his family's lake house mansion. Can Tristan put his unrequited crush aside to play up the charade for a week or will his feelings inevitably get in the way?





	1. The Way Our Horizons Meet

Music blaring. Bass dropping. People dancing. Drinks pouring. Smoke lingering. Head pounding.

_Shimmy shimmy ya, shimmy ya, shimmy ya. Drank. Swalla-la-la. ___

____

____

How was it that he kept ending up in these situations? Some drunk blonde stumbling over his feet where he was collapsed on the couch, thinking- No, overthinking thanks to the two beers he’d just finished, smashed in the small quad at the end of the hall that had way too many people crammed in for comfort. Claustrophobia.

Tristan sucked in a breath, elbow on the armrest, head propped on his hand. Stupid college parties. How was it that he kept ending up in these situations?

Oh, yeah. His obnoxious roommate was to blame, dragging him out of their dorm and away from studying for his last midterm tomorrow.

Josh said it would be fun- it was just a chill pregame- there would be free booze. Well, at least he was honest about the last part.

_Swalla-la-la. ___

____

____

That familiar barking laugh of his roommate managed to drown out the music momentarily, Tristan sinking deeper into the couch and risking a glance over his shoulder.

There was Josh across the small room, sandy blonde hair sticking out in disheveled tufts, the telltale sign that he was crossfaded. Hey, with how thick the haze of smoke was currently in the quad, it wasn’t surprising that a majority of the people here were crossfaded. They were lucky their RA hadn’t complained, yet, about the smell or the noise.

Josh was right in his element though, two hands thrown into the air, a can of beer in each one and a skinny brunette clinging to his hip. Tristan wondered how his roommate still had passing grades with how much he partied, and any time not spent partying was divided evenly between sleep and girls, no time left for his education.

Squeezing his eyelids shut and pinching the bridge of his nose, Tristan prayed Josh wouldn’t be bringing the brunette back to their dorm tonight.

As if Tristan wasn’t already fed up with the pregame and wasted girls tripping over him, it was at that exact moment someone else decided to lean over the armrest in the tight room, this time falling right into his lap. 

Tristan groaned, annoyed, eyes flicking open, ready to push the drunken girl back to her feet, but he froze, eyes wide, arm shifting suddenly, shying away from the boy on top of him.

Short chocolate colored hair, a single strand fallen onto his forehead, head swiveling around, glazed eyes flickering with every shade of green as they met Tristan’s. Soft face, a sharp jawline, fluttering eyelashes, and a stunning smile that Tristan thought would kill him, a body that he didn’t even want to imagine would look like under that tight button-up. _So gorgeous. ___

____

____

He’d seen this attractive boy before, countless times in the past months they’d lived across the hall from each other, first and now halfway through second semester. But, never this close. It was only ever a nod, a quick hello, as they passed each other in the hallway. That was it. But, now he could feel his breath, smell his cologne.

What was his name? _Miles Hollingsworth. ___

____

____

_Doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo. Doo-doo-doo. Oh, I want something just like this. ___

____

____

The beat dropped, and Miles’ glassy eyes blinked, turning his head to look back to the group of girls he’d just been talking to next to the couch, back to Tristan, probably wondering how he ended up in this stranger’s lap, lips dropping slightly open and Tristan tried to keep his gaze from going there.

“Here, you look like you need a drink.”

“What?” Tristan’s eyebrows furrowed together and Miles’ raised, eyes flicking to the red solo cup in his hand, holding it out to Tristan. Like this was normal, for him to be offering him a drink as he perched in his lap, not even bothering at the moment to get off.

Tristan slowly lifted his hand, baffled, taking the cup from Miles’ hand, careful to avoid any brushing fingers. “Thanks,” he muttered.

“Yup.” Miles nodded, eyes glinting, cocking his head as Tristan didn’t take a drink.

“Oh, aren’t you two just adorable!” Josh drawled out of nowhere, suddenly plopping down in the empty seat on the couch next to them. “Is Tristan _finally _drunk enough to socialize? How many drinks have you had? Three, four?” Josh went on and Tristan rolled his head to the side dramatically, groaning again as his roommate held up his phone at them, Tristan already assuming to be featured on this night’s drunken Snapchat story.__

____

____

“Fuck off, Josh.”

Miles laughed, mouth dropping open, an arm swinging around Tristan’s shoulders to steady himself as he teetered on his lap. The hand on his shoulder stunned Tristan, burning him, shoulder suddenly ablaze. Tristan looked back to the laughing brunette in his lap, lips curling up into a small smile at the sight. Miles’ whole face was crinkled up, full of so much light, sort of beautiful. _Definitely _beautiful.__

____

____

_Oh, I want something just like this. ___

____

____

The flash went off on Josh’s phone, a photograph, and Tristan turned back to him, flipping him off, right as Miles slid out of his lap and onto wobbly feet, off to pull some girl into his arms and dance with her.

Tristan sighed. He was too sober for this.

Finally managing to peel his eyes away from the striking brunette, Tristan dropped his gaze down to the red cup in his hand, swirling the yellow-gold liquor around. One whiff, and that was definitely not beer. He handed it over to Josh’s waiting hands instead.

 

His alarm woke him early the next morning, and Tristan groaned reaching around for his phone to turn the blaring sound off and stuff his face back into his pillow.

He’d tucked out of the pregame pretty early last night, before midnight, right before everyone was stumbling around to try and get to the real party across campus. He was sure a majority of them never made it, probably passed out in the quad hosting or in someone else’s bed.

Speaking of, Tristan turned a head, cracking an eye open to look across the room, and unsurprisingly there was Josh, passed out crooked on his mattress, still in full clothes and shoes from last night, snoring lightly.

Tristan couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

Ten minutes later, Tristan rolled out of bed, hitting the shower and throwing on clean clothes. There was one last midterm sitting between him and freedom. Spring Break.

Tristan was more than ready for a week off, to go back home, back to Toronto for break. He’d read too many textbooks, took too many notes, studied too hard. He needed this.

Although Toronto wasn’t the most exciting place to be heading for Spring Break, others off to Puerto Vallarta, Cancun, Miami, he was still glad to have a break from his bustling college life. Freshman year in the States had been a hell of a lot different than high school at Degrassi.

Swinging his backpack over his shoulder, tucking ear buds into his ears and plugging them into his phone, Tristan snuck out of the dorm room, to the elevator and scrolling through the string of notifications on his phone from last night after he clocked out.

The usual for a Thursday night-- several Snapchats from Josh, a thread of drunk texts from their group chat with their friends, a couple new Facebook and Instagram friend requests, and then a tag in a Facebook photo courtesy of his roommate.

Tristan was already scared of what he’d find when he opened the Facebook app, ready to un-tag himself from whatever ugly picture Josh had taken of him when he wasn’t looking.

But, when the picture loaded, it wasn’t what he’d been expecting.

Tristan sitting on the couch, not looking at the camera, instead peering up with a smile curled on his lips, looking at the beautiful boy in his lap who had an arm tucked around his shoulders, head tipped back in laughter, face so bright and warm. Two boys caught up in the moment, oblivious to the party happening around them.

Tristan almost bumped into someone as the doors to the elevator opened and he walked out, the same time someone walked in, dodging out of the way. He muttered an apology, tearing his eyes away from the photo for a second before returning to it, tracing his eyes across the boy’s features, the hand touching his shoulder, remembering the fire.

Tristan tapped the photo and the tags jumped into place. 

_Tristan Milligan. ___

____

____

_Miles Hollingsworth. ___

____

____

 

Despite popular belief from his classmates, the exam hadn’t been _that _bad. Sure it was a lot of multiple choice, a lot of short answer questions, but most of the stuff had been on the study guide that Tristan had spent a lot of time looking over. He was sure he pulled at least an eighty.__

____

____

Walking out of the lecture hall, an enormous weight lifted off his chest and relief flooding through him, Tristan immediately felt lighter. He was free from all responsibilities for a week. He was officially on Spring Break.

After hitting the dining hall, Tristan went back to his dorm, planning to start packing before he headed home tomorrow.

Josh was awake, thankfully freshly showered and in clean clothes, and sporting a hell of a hangover as he leaned over to hit his bong and blow smoke out the open window.

Tristan shut the door, shaking his head disbelieving at his roommate as he tossed his backpack to the ground.

“Want a hit?” Josh held the bong out in offering and Tristan snorted. Josh shrugged. “Just being polite.”

“It’s not even noon,” Tristan commented dryly, grabbing the beanie laying on Josh’s side of the room and stretching up to hang it over the smoke detector on the ceiling. He didn’t need them getting written up for setting off the fire alarm.

“Nauseous, man.” Like that validated everything. Tristan huffed a laugh and Josh turned to look at him with a grin. “Spranggg Breakkk.”

Tristan rolled his eyes.

There was a knock at their door as Josh bent over the bong again, and Tristan opened it, unthinking, assuming it was one of their friends that Josh had invited to smoke up.

But, when Tristan lifted his head, he froze, hand on the doorknob, deer in the headlights. Because there was Miles, leaning casually against the doorframe, dark locks of hair brushed over, smile playing on his lips, like this was a normal thing, him showing up at Tristan’s dorm room.

“Tristan, right?”

Tristan’s mouth dropped open, but he couldn’t find his voice, gaping at the charming boy standing in front of him, nodding slowly. The bong was rippling in the background.

Miles raised his eyebrows, cocky, expectant. “Can I come in?”

Tristan stepped aside as Josh waved the brunette exaggeratedly into the room, mouth still pressed to the bong, probably more worried about their RA walking down the hall and seeing him. 

He pulled away coughing out smoke. “Whaddup, Hollingsworth.”

Miles nodded at him, hands slipping into the pockets of his jeans as Tristan closed the door, turning around slowly to look at Miles again, eyes still wide as they landed on the sparkling green ones staring back at him.

“I have a proposition.”

“A--” Tristan squinted. “Okay,” he drew out slowly, hesitantly.

“It’s more like a favor,” Miles conceded and Tristan dropped his gaze, nodding, confused. 

“Okay.” Voice small, almost a squeak.

“What are you doing for spring break?” he asked light, revealing nothing.

“Going home.” 

“Where’s home?” Miles prompted.

“Toronto.”

“How would you feel about going to my family’s lake house with me instead?”

Tristan’s eyes shot up so fast, landing on searching green ones, a small smirk on Miles’ lips like the question he’d just asked wasn’t completely ludicrous and hitting Tristan like a truck out of nowhere.

“What?” Tristan blurted.

“It’s a huge mansion on lake Ontario. There’s a pool, a boat, free food, free booze. Whatever you want. It’ll be like a vacation,” Miles persuaded, words coming out in a rush and Tristan’s face only scrunched up more, confused.

“Why?”

“Sounds sweet. Can I come?” Josh piped up, still leaning against his bed with bloodshot eyes flicking back and forth between them.

Miles glanced over his shoulder at him, seeming to forget he was even in the room, all his focus burning holes into Tristan. “No,” he told him bluntly, looking back to Tristan, green eyes wide and earnest. “Look, did you see that picture he posted on Facebook of us?” Thumb over his shoulder, ‘he’ meaning Josh.

Tristan tilted his head. The picture of Miles in his lap, bright like the sun, glowing around him. He nodded.

“My mom saw it and well--” Miles trailed off, looking down, away, across the room, relieving Tristan of that gaze that was setting him on fire from the inside out. “I told her we were dating and now she’s expecting you to come with me to the lake house for spring break.”

“WHAT?” Tristan asked disbelieving, eyes bulging. Miles told his mother they were dating???

Miles’ eyes were back on his, softer now, almost pleading, still smoldering Tristan’s skin. “Look, I don’t have the best relationship with my parents. My dad- he doesn’t get me, okay? He tries to control me and I push him back, I poke the bear, and my mom saw the picture and said dad wouldn’t like it, so I--”

“So you told her what- I was your boyfriend?” Tristan finished his sentence, incredulous.

Miles sighed, dropping his shoulders, his gaze, too. “Yeah.”

“So, your parents are homophobic.” It wasn’t a question.

Miles shrugged, helpless at this point. “Probably. Dad for sure is.”

“So, you’re using me to piss off your Dad.”

Miles looked back up, flecks of evergreen in his eyes flickering with the sunlight shining through the window, casting light shadows across his face. “Sort of?" More sure of himself, eyes blazing again. “I mean it could be fun, Tristan. The two of us, teaming up. It’s not like you have any better plans for break. I mean, Toronto? Seriously?” Miles scoffed lightly, almost amused.

The way Miles was looking at Tristan nearly had him melting into the carpet, but he shook himself out of it. He wasn’t turning into putty. Not, yet.

“So, let me get this straight. You want me to go to your lake house with you, for the entire week, and pretend to be your boyfriend? Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds?”

Miles huffed a laugh, eyes crinkling up. “Yes.”

Tristan had his tongue in his cheek, looking at the boy lighting up with a laugh- laughing at him. He clicked his tongue. “Why me? You don’t even know me. Why not Josh?” Tristan threw out a hand towards his roommate, twirling the bong in his fingers. “Or literally anyone else.”

Josh held up his hands, surrender. “Sorry, I don’t do boyfriends. I’m sure you’re an attractive dude, you’re just not really my type, Hollingsworth.”

Miles was laughing again, looking to Josh with a quirk of his eyebrow before returning to Tristan. “It was your lap I fell into last night. That had to be fate.”

“I don’t believe in fate.”

“Please, Tristan. Will you be my fake boyfriend? Please. Don’t make me get on my knees and beg.”

Tristan swallowed, hard, because now he had the image of Miles on his knees in front of him and he definitely did not need to be thinking about that right now. He felt dizzy, staring into deep emerald eyes.

What was in it for him? A week at a luxurious lake house, pretending to be dating this smoking hot straight boy with dreamy green eyes, who Tristan had literally been pining after since the very first day they crossed paths in the hallway first semester. 

This was his chance to finally get to know the real Miles Hollingsworth, not the fantasy in his head.

Self-destruction was what this was.

“This is insane,” Tristan told him, hand reaching into his hair to tug at his curls. He would live to regret this.

“Is that a yes?” Miles’ eyebrows shot up, mouth dropping open into a toothy smile that made Tristan’s knees weak.

Was that a yes?

Squeezing his eyes shut, Tristan reopened them, meeting Miles’ face of hope. “Fine,” Tristan sighed, caving in to the fire. “I’ll do it.”

“Yes!” And the next thing Tristan knew he was being pulled into Miles’ strong arms, breath catching in his throat and eyes shooting wide in surprise, skin tingling everywhere Miles was pressed against him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

As quickly as the hug started, it ended, and Miles was stepping back, beaming at a flustered Tristan. “We leave tomorrow morning.”

Tristan gave a weak nod.

“It’ll be fun, I promise.”

“If you say so.” Tristan wasn’t fully convinced.

“Give me your phone.”

Then, Tristan was turning, finding his phone tossed on his bed and handing it over to Miles who was quickly typing in his number and sending himself a text before placing it back in Tristan’s feeble fingers.

“I’ll text you tomorrow. Be ready around ten.”

“Okay.” Tristan gave a nod and Miles was turning towards the door. “Wait- Miles.”

“Hm?” Miles turned back around, eyebrows up.

“What- What do I bring?”

Miles’ face crinkled up into another one of those huge smiles that nearly split his face in half. “Pack like your going to a lake house with your boyfriend of six months,” he replied simply.

Tristan nodded, looking down, back up. “Wait- six months?” Specific. Six months meant he should know shit about Miles. But, he barely knew anything about him, other than that he was slowly abolishing him with his blazing eyes and beauty.

Miles chuckled. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Tristan.” Then he was slipping out the door, pulling it closed behind him before Tristan could say another word. A soft thud as Tristan stared after him.

“What the hell did I just get myself into?” he groaned at the ceiling.

Josh whistled. “I have no fucking idea.”


	2. I'm Sleeping With My Clothes On

“You’re what?! Tristan, you have to be joking!”

Tristan sighed against the cell phone pressed to his ear, held up by his shoulder as he folded one of his favorite shirts and stuffed it into the duffel bag propped open on his bed. He turned around to retrieve more clothes from his closet.

“Look, Zoe, I know it sounds crazy, but there is really no need to worry.” Tristan yanked another shirt off a hanger and held it in front of him in the mirror, looking at his reflection. Would this shirt look good on him? Or more importantly, would Miles think this shirt looked good on him?

Tristan squeezed his eyes shut at that thought.

“No need to worry? You’re pretending to be some rich kid’s boyfriend that you _barely _know so he can indulge in his daddy issues!”__

____

Tristan bit back a groan. God, Zoë could be so damn dramatic. At least that hadn’t changed since high school.

He turned towards Josh, who was laying on his back on his bed, throwing and catching a crumpled essay that he’d gotten a shitty grade on above his head. Tristan held up the shirt and raised his eyebrows at his roommate, who glanced over, tilting his head before nodding. Tristan turned back around to fold and toss the shirt in his duffel.

“It’s really not that big of a deal. I spent all last night stalking his Facebook and he seems normal.” The truth was, there hadn’t been a whole lot to stalk on Miles’ Facebook, just a bunch of tagged pictures of him at parties and not much about his family. But, that was normal for any college student and Tristan was taking his chances.

“A normal person doesn’t ask someone to be their fake boyfriend,” Zoë countered and Tristan could hear her disapproving tone.

Tristan was just about to reason more with her when his words caught in his throat at the soft knock on the door. He felt his stomach lurch at the sound because who else would be knocking on their door this early on a Saturday. He panicked.

What time was it? He could have sworn he had at least another half hour to finish packing.

“Zoe, I have to go, but I promise you everything will be fine. Have a great spring break in Toronto and I’ll miss you!” He quickly hit the end button on the call before she could argue. It was too late to feel guilty about ditching his best friend from home for the hot boy across the hall for spring break. 

There was no going back now.

Tristan took a deep breath, slipping his phone into the pocket of his shorts, before yanking open the door to their dorm room.

It shouldn’t have taken him by surprise, but Tristan figured he could never get used to Miles on the other side of the threshold, leaning against the doorframe just as he had yesterday, looking handsome as ever.

“Hey, baby.” Miles grinned, lifting his sunglasses up to rest in his hair, revealing those twinkling eyes.

Tristan scoffed, “Baby? Really?” He had to turn away, not able to fall victim to Miles’ gaze quite yet, holding the door open for Miles to enter. “You’re early,” he accused as he stuffed more clothes into the duffel bag sitting on his bed.

Miles fell onto the bed beside his bag, among the stray of clothes, propping himself up on his forearms and meeting Tristan’s eyes once again with a broad smile. “Thought I would help my boyfriend pack.”

Tristan swallowed, looking away, busying himself with grabbing a pair of shorts that was stuck halfway underneath Miles’ body on the bed, yanking it free to fold and shove into the duffel. “Right now you’re just getting in the way,” he grumbled.

Miles laughed, feeling around on the bed till his hand caught a shirt and he picked it up, tossing it at Tristan. “Here, this would look so hot on you.”

Tristan’s face flushed crimson red, which only caused Miles to laugh harder. How was he ever going to survive a whole week when Miles said things like that? Tristan snagged the shirt that had fallen back to the bed, glancing at the worn t-shirt before looking exasperatedly at the boy rolling on the mattress. 

“Seriously, Miles? I wore this to bed!” Tristan laughed, chucking the shirt back at Miles’ face and reaching to zip up the duffel. He picked up the bag, swinging it over his shoulder and looked back to Miles. 

He took another deep breath. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Miles raised his eyebrows, cocky and unconvinced, as he asked, “Are you sure?”

One look at the exquisite brunette and Tristan knew his answer.

“No, I’m never going to be sure. So, let’s leave before I change my mind.” Tristan started for the door, not waiting for Miles to respond, however he heard the mattress shift behind him as the other boy got up.

“Have a good spring break, boys. Use protection!” Josh called after them as they left the dorm room, Tristan groaning at his unwarranted roommate’s comment, but he couldn’t quite suppress a smile after hearing Miles’ laughter behind him.

 

It was a thirty-minute drive to the airport, a long thirty minutes as they rode in Miles’ Mustang convertible, which Tristan had refrained from rolling his eyes at because he should have known Miles would drive a ridiculously expensive car. With the top down, the wind whipping past them, Miles sped down the highway, certainly ruffling up Tristan’s hair and leaving it windswept and tangled, but the other boy tried not to let that get to him.

Miles blasted Kendrick Lamar from the speakers, tapping his hands on the steering wheel and eliminating any chance for conversation. That was fine with Tristan, since it gave him a chance to collect his thoughts and prepare for the week ahead of him. He still wasn’t sure what exactly he was getting himself into.

He allowed himself to sneak a glance at Miles driving. Miles was bouncing his head, mouthing the words to the song and wearing his Ray-Ban’s again so Tristan couldn’t see his eyes, but he could imagine what they’d look like in this moment-- lit up with happiness, glittering with specks of every shade of green that the sunlight would highlight. Tristan hoped he would get the chance to memorize every reflection in them over the course of the week, so when he closed his eyes he could picture the pair of green one’s that seemed to bring out this sizeable reaction in him.

Tristan wondered why a boy that looked so liberated in this moment would want to go through such lengths just to piss off his parents.

_Be humble. ___

____

Miles looked over at him and offered a warm smile before returning his eyes to the road. Tristan’s heart fluttered.

_Sit down. ___

____

__

 

Tristan realized he had strongly underestimated just how rich Miles’ family was as he climbed the steps behind the brunette into a private jet.

Speechless was an understatement. His jaw was dropped, his eyebrows were resting high on his forehead as he took in the luxurious cabin of the jet that Miles walked through without a second glance, like he’d done this every day of his life.

Hell, he probably had.

“I can’t believe you have your own jet,” Tristan gushed as Miles handed their bags off to the flight attendant and dropped down into one of the first-class type of chairs near the window.

He shrugged, looking to Tristan who was still taking in the lavish cabin, trailing his hand across the arm of the leather-cushioned couch across the aisle. “It has its perks, I guess.”

Tristan finally looked to Miles, taking in the other’s indifferent expression, probably the first time that he’d gotten a glimpse of whatever was hiding behind Miles’ bright smile. Tristan figured that Miles’ disinterest in the fact that his family owned a private jet only solidified that this spring break was going to be full of surprises. 

He hovered awkwardly, trying to decide where he should sit, thankful when Miles chose for him and patted the chair right next to him.

“I probably should give you a better idea about what you’re walking into,” Miles said, his usual smugness gone, eyes bearing into Tristan as he sunk into the chair next to him.

“You think?” Tristan tipped his head at the other boy with a small smile.

Miles gave a huff of amusement, looking down and nodding. “You don’t have to worry about my parents-- I mean, they aren’t going to care that _you’re _gay.”__

____

____

Tristan raised his eyebrows, because _what? _That pretty much went against everything Miles had told him about his parents yesterday, which hadn’t been much.__

____

____

Miles looked back up, saw Tristan’s expression and sighed. “I just- you don’t have to feel uncomfortable. My dad only cares about controlling me. He won’t bother you.”

Tristan nodded after a moment, understanding sinking in. Miles’ dad was one of those people who claimed they had nothing against gay people unless it became their child. He didn’t care if Tristan was gay as long as Miles wasn’t.

Tristan felt nauseous.

“I need you to focus on two things and two things only this week, okay? First and foremost, having fun and enjoying your spring break. And second, pretending to be my boyfriend, which I’ll make super easy for you.” Miles winked, actually winked and Tristan gulped. 

_Yeah right, _the way his heart was hammering in his chest told Tristan that there were way more than two things he should be worrying about this week.__

____

____

“And, Tristan, if at any moment you feel uncomfortable, just tell me and we’ll leave. I promise you that.”

It took a moment for Tristan to find his voice again, and even then it was barely there. “Why are you doing this?” He asked carefully, looking at Miles to try and gauge his reaction, although the other boy offered nothing. “What are you trying to prove?”

Miles studied him for a second before his mouth quirked into a minute smile, if Tristan had to guess, a fake one. “That my parents can’t control me.”

Tristan didn’t know what to say, and luckily he didn’t have to say anything as the flight attendant walked by to tell them to prepare for takeoff. Miles turned away to look out the window and it was only then that Tristan allowed the flash of pity to cross his face as he looked at the other’s sulking shoulders, the jet starting to move on the runway.

There was a lot more to Miles Hollingsworth than his good looks, charming personality, and carefree façade. Tristan was starting to realize that. 

However, it didn’t help the slightest in containing his god-for-saken crush on a straight boy. If anything, it only made him more interested in Miles and created the strong urge to protect the other boy from whoever had harmed him in the past. 

It was daring for Tristan to allow himself to have such strong feelings for the boy he would soon be pretending to date, but he didn’t have it in himself to make it stop. He was walking on thin ice, and sure he would drown in the icy water beneath the surface before the week was over.

 

After the plane had taken off, Tristan dug his phone from his pocket and untangled his headphones before slipping them into his ears, resting his head back and turning away from Miles to get his mind off everything with some music.

_‘Cause I got issues._  
_But you got ‘em, too._  
_So give ‘em all to me and I’ll give mine to you._  
_Bask in the glory of all our problems._  
_‘Cause we got the kind of love it takes to solve ‘em._ __

____

____

It wasn’t helping. If anything, filling his head with music only made Tristan more aware of the brunette sitting beside him and how he craved to look at him again, try and figure him out like a complicated puzzle piece.

_Yeah, I got issues.  
And one of them is how bad I need you. ___

____

____

His ear buds were suddenly ripped from his ears before Tristan had the chance to do it himself. He turned to look at Miles startled. “What?” he asked annoyed as the other boy dropped the headphones back in his lap.

“Time to study.” Miles turned his attention back to his phone in front of him, scrolling through what looked like a freaking slideshow presentation.

“Study?” Tristan raised his eyebrows.

Miles glanced up at Tristan quickly before looking back to his phone, unimpressed. “We’ve been dating for six months. You have to know more about me than my first and last name if anyone is going to believe us.”

Tristan didn’t respond, chewing on his lip instead. He’d gladly learn more about Miles, but he wasn’t about to admit that.

Miles held up his phone, showing a picture of an older man in a suit, harsh face, barely smiling, graying hair, arms crossed in front of his body, and despite Tristan not wanting to acknowledge it because of the contrast between the two, the man was clearly sharing DNA with Miles.

“Miles Hollingsworth the second,” the brunette supplied. “The hugest condescending asshole on the planet, or as I despise calling him, my father. Running for mayor, probably cheating on my mom, and his biggest priority is upholding his public image.”

“Woah,” Tristan whispered, because holy shit that was a lot to take in. He looked from the image to Miles, who appeared completely unfazed by what he had just rattled off. “Should I address him as the hugest condescending asshole, or?”

Miles huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Call him whatever you want, as long as you look like my pretty boyfriend while doing so.” He flashed that toothy smile and Tristan was glad he was sitting down because it surely made his knees weak.

Before Tristan could form a coherent response to that, Miles was moving on, scrolling to the next photo.

This one was of a blonde woman that appeared younger than she probably was, roots needing a touch up, soft face with a few indiscreet wrinkles around her eyes and mouth.

“My mom, Diana Hollingsworth. Married for the money, loyal follower of my father, and her prized possessions are the twins. You’ll probably think she’s sweet, but it’s all just an act. She loves to pretend we have the perfect little family, when everyone with clear eyes can tell that’s far from the truth.”

Tristan listened quietly, absorbing the information, trying to piece together what was beginning to sound like Miles’ tragic childhood. He needed more. “The twins?” he prompted.

“We’re getting there.” Miles swiped to the next picture, revealing a teenage girl that had to be Miles’ sister, wide brown eyes and dark curly hair framing her face. “Frankie Hollingsworth, or Frankenstein, my little sister. She’s a senior in high school and just about the most dramatic boy-crazy girl you’ll ever meet.”

Miles swiped with his thumb again, switching to a photo of a boy with darker hair that was spiked above his forehead, intense blue eyes and a sharp jawline. “Her twin and my little brother, Hunter. He doesn’t say much, mostly keeps to himself, but is just as troubled as the rest of us, if not more. He loves videogames and drawing comics.”

“Are you close with your siblings?” Tristan interrupted.

Miles looked up from his phone, meeting Tristan’s curious stare. “I try to be.”

“And they’ll be at the lake house?”

“Yep, everyone will be there. I even think Frankie’s bringing friends, so there will probably be a couple extra obnoxious high school girls around. But, don’t worry- it’s a big house. We don’t have to hang around them if you don’t want to.”

Tristan nodded, although he really didn’t care who they hung around as long as they were together. He kicked himself internally for rationalizing that. 

“So, what will they think then? Are your brother and sister going to believe you’re dating a boy or will they see through this performance we’re putting on?”

Miles raised his eyebrows and gave a small smile. “They’ll believe what they see,” he said simply before looking back to his phone. “Okay, one last person you need to know about.”

He scrolled to the final picture, showing an Asian boy with thick-rimmed glasses. “Winston Chu, but everyone calls him Chewy. He’s been my best friend since we were five, used to date my little sister, and still around enough that he’s practically a part of the fam. If I know one thing about Chewy, it’s that he’ll never miss a week away at the Hollingsworth lake house.”

Miles turned his phone away, setting it down, and Tristan stared blankly, grasping onto the information that was just unloaded on him, all the people he would be meeting later today, all the people he would have to convince that he was Miles’ boyfriend. Miles glanced back at Tristan and chuckled.

“Is there going to be a quiz?” Tristan teased.

Miles laughed more, eyes crinkling like that night at the pregame when he was sitting in Tristan’s lap, so beautiful. 

“No, I just need them to believe us. But, I’m not worried. I know we can pull this off, Tris.”

His stomach did weird things in response to Miles’ voice and that nickname, but Tristan did his best to ignore it for now and not think about what it meant.

“We can,” he agreed with a smile. Tristan wasn’t sure if he believed himself, but he knew he would try his hardest to help Miles, and it’d be easy remembering things about him when he was so drawn to the other boy. Which led him to his next question. “And what about you? I know about your family now, but I barely know anything about you.”

“Hm… I guess you’ll have to figure that out on your own.” 

Miles winked and Tristan scoffed as he looked away. This boy was truly a mystery. “Nothing? Not even your major?”

Miles laughed. “It’s journalism.”

Tristan raised his eyebrows, a little surprised. “You’re a writer?”

“Mhm… and you’re a musical theatre major. At least _I _did my research.”__

____

____

Tristan rolled his eyes, looking back to Miles and flinching under the burn of his gaze and his self-satisfied smile. The other boy had _researched _him, and suddenly Tristan felt like he was melting and had to look away again.__

____

____

“Now, should we practice kissing or would the actor rather leave it up to the moment?”

Tristan’s eyes shot back to Miles and his mouth dropped open. _What? ___

____

____

Miles chuckled, eyes crinkling. “What’s that look for? You didn’t really think you wouldn’t have to kiss me, did you? I promise I don’t have bad breath.”

“I--” Tristan couldn’t focus because now all he could think about was Miles’ mouth on his and the way that would set his body on fire and his eyes were dropping down to look at Miles’ perfect lips and _oh god, _he wanted to kiss that boy. He needed to kiss that boy.__

____

____

Miles’ grin widened, and he nodded, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip, turning his body to face Tristan. “We’ll practice.”

Of course he’d spent all last night thinking about the probability of him having to kiss Miles, in order to fit the act and prove they were a real couple. And he was more than okay with that, more than okay with letting Miles ravish his mouth and use him to piss off his parents if he got to kiss those sweet lips.

But, now the time was here and Tristan was freaking out, and _so _not ready for the feelings that would absolutely evolve from the touch of their lips and leave his heart pounding in his chest.__

____

____

Suddenly, Miles was quirking his eyebrows and a hand was reaching out to cup the back of Tristan’s neck, fingers threading into the dark hair on the nape as he slowly leaned in, and Tristan couldn’t breathe, his skin was on fire under Miles’ touch and all he could do was subtly part his lips.

And in a haste decision, Tristan leaned forward and pecked Miles’ lips, the softest brush of their lips before he was pulling completely away, facing forward in his chair, and even though it was barely a kiss, his heart was still thrumming so loud that Tristan was sure Miles could hear it.

Tristan could feel Miles looking at him, studying him, and cocking his head with that stupid grin. “You’re going to have to kiss me better than that.”

He didn’t push, though. Instead, he turned away also, back to looking out the window and leaving Tristan to finally breathe again. _What the fuck. ___

____

____

 

After the plane landed, the two grabbed their bags and exited the jet, heading out towards the parking lot of the airport where a slick black Jeep Wrangler was waiting that Miles magically had the keys to. They climbed in, throwing their bags in the backseat, and Miles started the engine, pulling out of the parking lot and into traffic.

It wasn’t long before they turned onto a road that curved beside a massive lake, gigantic houses lined in front of the blue shimmering water. Tristan couldn’t help but gawk out the window as the mansions flashed by him, spread a decent land apart from each other and a distance up from the water. He could see glints of docks and fancy boats floating in the vast lake between the houses, rocky beaches coating the water’s edge, and the opposite side of the lake not even visible in the horizon.

Then, Miles was passing through a lanky black gate and pulling onto a smooth-bricked driveway in front of possibly the largest mansion they’d passed, yet, and Tristan stared up at the three-story house, painted the lightest of blue, with wide open windows and balcony’s stretching across the entirety of it. His mouth was dropped open as his gaze took in the stretch of the mansion, the colorful landscaping, the rounding of the victorian with white trimming.

“I told you it’d be worth it.”

“ _Shut _up.” Tristan hopped out of the Jeep, hearing Miles’ laughter behind him, as he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the house he would be staying at for the next week. This was unreal. This was incredible.__

____

____

Miles had grabbed their bags, swinging the straps of both over his shoulder as he rounded the Jeep to stand next to Tristan.

“Ready?” he asked, looking at Tristan.

Tristan finally tore his stare away from the house to meet those soft green eyes and he smiled.

Miles looked down, reaching tentatively to graze his fingers with Tristan’s before sliding his hand against his, lacing their fingers together.

Tristan ignored the way his breath hitched at the contact, the way his hand tingled, the way his palm was sweating, and instead he held back, letting his hand fit with Miles’ like this was a part of his everyday and he nodded. They were pretending to be a couple now.

Miles squeezed his hand softly. “Okay.” 

He started forward leading the way up the steps to the front porch, to the large mahogany doors, that he pushed open and stepped inside.

They were met with a burst of cool air, the house air conditioned, as Miles set their bags down on the glossy tiled floor and closed the door behind them, not letting go of Tristan’s hand as he did so. They stood in a wide den with tall ceilings, three different passages in the walls leading to different rooms or hallways, and an open staircase ascending upstairs.

“Miles, is that you?” called a woman’s bubbling voice, muffled from the other room and Miles tugged them forward, through the short hallway and past a couple closed doors till it opened up to an extravagant kitchen on one side and a living area on the other, bright with natural light from the back wall made up of windows.

Diana Hollingsworth was facing the stove, cooking, turning around when she heard them enter and lighting up with a warm smile at the sight of her son.

“Hey, mom,” Miles greeted, dropping Tristan’s hand to step forward and meet her halfway for a hug, Tristan hovering awkwardly in place, wearing a smile of his own.

“Miles, it’s so good to see you!” She rubbed at his back, rocking them back and forth momentarily before Miles pulled away and she kept her hand resting on his shoulder.

There were footsteps and then someone was appearing through the opening on the opposite side of the kitchen, the spitting image of the picture Miles had shown Tristan of his father, right down to his harsh face and piercing gaze.

“Miles,” he nodded, voice deep and authoritative as he looked at his son across the kitchen’s island between them.

Miles made no move to approach his father, glancing up and then quickly away. “Hi, dad,” he eventually sighed out. 

Tristan could feel the tension growing from the second Mr. Hollingsworth had stepped into the room, and he tried not to feel uncomfortable as he watched Miles’ father burn holes into his eldest son.

Miles seemed to pull himself together then, smile returning to his face, stepping back and turning to wrap an arm around Tristan’s shoulders, Tristan trying not to squirm under his touch.

“This is Tristan,” Miles grinned, looking at the other boy before back at his parents. “My boyfriend. Tristan, these are my parents.”

Tristan watched Mr. and Mrs. Hollingsworth’s eyes shift to him, almost like they hadn’t noticed him in the room until this moment, or at least had been trying not to.

He focused on Mrs. Hollingsworth first, stepping forward to shake her hand, but instead the blonde woman pulled him into a tight hug that caught Tristan off guard.

“Oh- Hi, thank you so much for having me, Mrs. Hollingsworth. Your house is beautiful.”

“It’s so nice to meet you, Tristan. And please, call me Diana,” she said, pulling back from the hug and giving him a kind smile. Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad.

Tristan shifted then to bring his attention to the older man in the room, scrutinizing him across the counter, nothing friendly about his features. Tristan swallowed, as Mr. Hollingsworth’s gaze flickered from Tristan back to his son, judging.

Tristan ignored the dread in his body as he told himself to play nice and stepped forward to shake the father’s hand. “Nice to meet you,” he mumbled, and Mr. Hollingsworth offered nothing in response except his death grip as they shook hands.

Tristan didn’t hesitate retreating back to Miles where his arm was waiting to wrap around his waist and tug him back into his side, fitting comfortably against him.

Miles cleared his throat, gaze locked with his father’s and eyebrows drawn together, but he didn’t say anything.

Mrs. Hollingsworth was quick to talk over the tension piling up, breaking out in her cheerful tone. “How are you, boys? How was traveling? Did you get here okay?”

“Yeah, not too bad,” Miles said, softening as he looked to his mother, and Tristan nodded along.

“The weather is beautiful. I think it’s supposed to be nice all week,” Mrs. Hollingsworth continued, making small talk, turning back to the stove to resume cooking. “Tristan, feel free to make yourself at home.”

“Thank you.” He felt Miles’ hold on him loosen, hand trailing across the dip of his back before he let go, and Tristan shivered.

“Where is everyone?” Miles asked, leaning forward onto his forearms against the kitchen counter, picking at a cheese platter that was set out, relaxing now that his father was busying himself with fixing a drink.

Tristan turned around, shuffling a couple feet away, needing a short reprieve from meeting the parents. He took in the room and this house and how unbelievable it all was, how he’d never been in a home this marvelous. And it was only their lake house- a place to vacation as they pleased.

“The kids are all outside, except Hunter. I’m not quite sure where he’s off hiding.”

Miles snorted.

The living room was decorated with expensive couches and furniture, a huge flat screen TV hanging on the wall above a stone fireplace, hardwood floors and a glass coffee table, fancy rug in the center. The living room alone was nearly as big as Tristan’s whole first floor of his house back in Toronto.

“Dinner should be ready in about an hour. I’m making chicken, your favorite.”

“Thanks, mom.”

Tristan strolled into the living area slowly, coming to stand in front of the immense glass windows that nearly ran from the ceiling to the floor, out looking the view from the back of house. Tristan was amazed, gaping at the stone patio complete with a full bar, grill, and cushioned furniture, then the broad crystal blue pool surrounded by loungers where he could see a few girls tanning, laughing with each other with frozen drinks in their hands. Past the pool was a slow descent of a grassy hill that turned into a rocky beach, water of the lake licking at the edge of the stones. There were two docks on either side of the property, both long, made of even wood. The one on the left sat next to what looked like a boathouse, matching blue paint and trim as the mansion, and right beside it in the water was a sleek white boat, that Tristan could only describe as a miniature yacht because of it’s eloquence, along with a couple jet skis, kayaks, and smaller row boats tied along the dock.

Looking out at the lake, Tristan could find one word to describe the view.

_Paradise. ___

____

____

Tristan started at the hands slipping around his waist from behind and the chin coming to rest on his shoulder, but Miles whispered a soothing, “shhh,” his breath ghosting his ear. He’d almost forgotten these touches were regular now, all part of acting like a couple.

Tristan tried to calm, keeping his eyes glued out at the pool, the lake, but it was nearly impossible with the heat of Miles behind him, his body pressed against his, and how his hands were burning into Tristan’s hips.

“Okay?” Miles whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his jawline, and Tristan tried to remain standing. He could barely hear the background noise of Miles’ parents chatting with each other over his heart beat pounding in his ears.

“Okay,” he nodded, swallowing hard, trying not to lose his mind, but he was enjoying the burn of Miles wrapped around him _so _much. _Too _much.____

_____ _

_____ _

Miles took a step to the side to come stand next to him, one hand sliding up his torso to rest around him just as it had before. “Ready to meet the others?” He gestured with his head out to the backyard.

Tristan drew in a shaky breath, trying to concentrate over the fog clouding his mind. “Sure.” He risked a glance at Miles and smiled as the other boy reached down to take his hand again.

Miles led him through the glass sliding doors and out onto the patio, where they were immediately hit with the blinding sun and heat of the late afternoon. They walked out by the pool where there were three girls chatting in lounge chairs and a boy splashing around in the water.

“Hey, losers,” Miles called as they approached.

“Miles!” one of the girls squealed, jumping up and rushing to hug him, Tristan immediately recognizing her as Frankie.

“Well, well, well, look who finally made it,” the scrawny boy called from the pool, swimming across to prop his arms on the closest ledge. “Thought I was going to be stuck alone with these girls all week.”

“Hey!” a blue-haired girl piped up in complaint, taking a sip of her frozen drink and rolling her eyes at Winston. “Don’t be rude.”

Miles laughed, letting go of his sister and putting a hand on Tristan’s shoulder. “Guys, this is my boyfriend, Tristan,” he introduced.

Frankie turned to Tristan with a bright smile. “Wow, he actually exists! I thought mom was joking,” she said before stepping forward to hug him in greeting. 

“Seriously, Franks?” Miles scoffed and Tristan shot him an amused glance over the sister’s shoulder as he returned the hug.

“I’m Frankie, Miles’ sister.”

“Annoying sister,” Miles corrected, earning him a shove from Frankie when she pulled away from Tristan.

Tristan smiled, watching the two siblings laugh and bicker, pushing each other back and forth closer to the pool. “Are they always like this?”

“Most of the time… You’ll get used to it,” the boy sighed from the edge of the water. “I’m Winston, by the way.”

“Tristan. Nice to meet you.”

There was a loud splash then and everyone turned to where Frankie had been pushed into the pool and was now submerging from the water. Miles stood at the edge laughing down at her, arms bent around his stomach, looking like the sun. Tristan felt his heart skip a beat at the gorgeous sight.

“Miles, I’m going to kill you!”

“Well, there goes Frankie’s hair,” the other dark-skinned girl spoke up and Tristan turned to her with a chuckle. “I’m Shay,” she introduced herself.

“Lola!” the blue-haired girl sang, patting the now empty lounger beside her, and Tristan took that as invitation to sit down. “I never knew Miles was into guys.”

Tristan couldn’t help feeling the irony. _He isn’t._

____

____

The four of them watched now as Frankie pulled herself out of the pool and chased after her brother, trying to throw him into the pool as he had done to her. She wasn’t having much luck.

“How long have you two been dating?”

Tristan swallowed. “Six months.”

“Wow, he sure kept you a secret for a long time,” Winston observed.

Tristan tried to stifle his nervous laughter, trying to think of what to say that wouldn’t incriminate Miles’ words later on. “Yeah, well, it all happened pretty fast, so... we tried to keep it between us for as long as possible.”

Another loud splash, and Frankie was back in the pool.

Miles walked back over then, still grinning, falling into the lounge chair with Tristan and leaning back against him like they did this regularly.

Tristan froze at first, but feeling Winston’s curious gaze on him, he wrapped his arms around Miles’ chest as casually as possible, and couldn’t help feeling the butterflies as Miles snuggled back into his touch.

And probably the scariest part was that after a few moments-- it _did _start to feel normal. Talking and laughing with Miles’ sister and their friends, spending time by the pool under the sun with Miles in his arms, the way Miles was tracing his fingers along Tristan’s knees as he shared happy memories at the lake house with him, the way Tristan subconsciously brushed his hand through Miles’ hair as he compared college courses with Winston. It felt normal- even when Miles looked over his shoulder and smiled at him, that beaming smile that made his heart stop, it still felt normal.__

____

____

So when Mrs. Hollingsworth called over to them from where she had set the dining table out on the patio, announcing dinner as the sun was setting over the lake, Tristan was almost sad that he had to let go of Miles, popping whatever warm bubble they had been in for the past hour.

Miles stood up first, turning to reach out with both his hands and pull Tristan to his feet, placing a soft kiss on his forehead, before they headed to sit at the table with the rest of the family.

The eight of them- Miles, Tristan, Frankie, Shay, Lola, Winston, and Mr. and Mrs. Hollingsworth all sat down for dinner, dishing out plates of food with light conversations fluttering around the table.

The back door sliding open, interrupted the conversations however, and the third Hollingsworth child bounded out, sliding the door shut harder than necessary behind him. He sat down in the empty seat next to Frankie without looking up, headphones tucked around his neck and scowl prominent on his pale face.

Mrs. Hollingsworth sighed lightly, placing a piece of chicken on his plate.

“Hey, Hunter,” Miles broke the silence and his little brother looked up, surprised, face softening the slightest bit as he looked to Miles.

“I thought you weren’t coming.” His voice, although barely holding any emotion at all, sounded accusatory.

Miles offered a smile, reaching to put his arm around Tristan’s shoulders next to him and Hunter’s eyes followed the action. “I’m here, aren’t I? This is Tristan, my boyfriend.”

“Hey,” Tristan said.

Hunter’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he mumbled, “Sup,” before his expression changed into something more like amusement. He looked back to his brother, with an all too familiar raise of his eyebrows. “You’re gay?”

Miles didn’t respond, only quirking his eyebrows right back and squeezing Tristan’s shoulder.

Mr. Hollingsworth set his glass down roughly and Tristan flinched involuntarily as the table shook. 

Miles was quick to rub a soothing hand across the back of his shoulders, as he didn’t even spare his father a glance. “Have you really been holed up gaming all day?” he asked his younger brother challengingly, who only rolled his eyes at him. “Tomorrow you’re spending time outside with us,” he decided with a smile.

Everyone dug into their food after that and the topic was changed, the conversation enthusing along the lines of their plans for how to spend the day tomorrow and the rest of the week. 

With the girls excited about morning yoga near the lake, Miles considered joining until he heard what time they were waking up and said he was better off sleeping in. Tristan agreed as Winston was drooling about yoga pants, earning himself a kick from Lola under the table, the group laughing as she chastised him.

It wasn’t until desert that the attention turned back to Tristan and Miles, as Frankie wagged her fork at them and spoke through a mouthful of cake. “So, how did you two even meet?”

Tristan thought that question was safe enough to answer, so he spoke up before Miles could. “Well, Miles and I live on the same floor at college. His dorm is right across the hall from mine.” He unintentionally leaned closer to the brunette next to him as he spoke, and straightened when he realized what he was doing.

Miles hummed, reaching up to brush a curl of Tristan’s hair out of his eyes. “It started with just passing each other in the hallway early first semester, and I thought, holy shit, Tristan’s hot--”

The table laughed, all but Mr. Hollingsworth, who Tristan could see glaring at Miles from the corner of his eye. Miles seemed unaffected.

“And then, we were both at this crowded pregame down the hall, and somehow I ended up falling into his lap.” Miles looked at Tristan, making the other boy flush, eyes sparkling as he continued, “And when I’d realized it was Tristan’s lap that I had fallen into- I don’t know, I felt like it was the world’s way of telling me we had to be together. And staring down into those blue eyes, I knew this was the guy that was going to make me happy.” His voice was soft, and honest, and for a moment Tristan forgot they were sitting at a table full of people.

Tristan had stopped breathing, his gaze locked with Miles’, because wasn’t that the truth? Miles _had _fallen into his lap, and Tristan had looked up into his eyes, and in that moment, he was pretty damn happy despite how his night was going otherwise.__

____

____

Miles chuckled, looking back to his sister across the table. “So, I asked him out and after some convincing, he said yes.”

_No, _this wasn’t real. They were faking it. Miles was just a good liar.__

____

____

“Aww,” Frankie and the other girls cooed, believing him, just as Tristan almost had.

Then, Miles’ hand was on Tristan’s chin, turning his face slowly to face his, and as their gazes locked again, Tristan knew this was it. He felt the current- the heat between them and as Miles brought his other hand up to cup Tristan’s face softly, he knew he would kiss him. And Tristan knew it would ruin him.

But, that didn’t stop Tristan from bringing his hand up to Miles’ neck, leaning in like their lips were magnets, and the soft gasp he took before their mouths pressed together.

It was nothing like the peck in the airplane. It was nothing like any kiss Tristan had ever experienced.

Their lips parted, slotting together, pushing against each other, soft and kind, like they’d done this many times before. It felt like seconds, minutes, hours, their lips fitting together, molding together, Tristan’s fingers pushing into the skin on the back of Miles’ neck, Miles’ dancing along his jaw. 

The tip of Miles’ tongue traced his bottom lip, and then he was pulling back slowly, too soon, Tristan’s head swimming as his eyes fluttered back open hazily and the brunette was already staring at him, lips just inches apart in reaching distance. Tristan was on fire.

Miles smiled, alive and beautiful, and he leaned in again, for another quick kiss, a swift heated brush of his lips against Tristan’s before he pulled back altogether, leaning back in his chair.

Tristan wondered if he also felt that spark.

It took a second for Tristan to find his breath again, to remember they had an audience watching them.

Hunter snorted. 

Frankie was giggling.

Winston was groaning dramatically and covering his eyes. “Dude, I’m eating.”

Lola looked… _jealous? ___

____

____

Mr. Hollingsworth pushed away from the table abruptly and cleared his plate, stalking inside without a word.

Tristan was buzzing too much to care.

The way Miles was smirking said he didn’t either.

 

When late evening set in and Mrs. Hollingsworth was cleaning up the kitchen, and Mr. Hollingsworth hadn’t reappeared since dinner, and the girls were off applying facemasks, and Hunter and Winston were playing video games in the living room, Miles decided they would call it a night and head upstairs to their room.

After thanking Diana once again for dinner and saying goodnight, Tristan followed Miles back near the front door to retrieve their bags before trailing him up the staircase. They walked quietly, down a wide hallway until Miles opened a door and they turned into a room, the brunette flicking on the lights.

The bedroom was vast, yet simple, reminding Tristan of an expensive hotel room, grey-blue walls with a queen-sized bed and a fluffy white duvet, a couple abstract paintings hung around the room. There were two doors pulled shut that Tristan guessed led to a closet, and then an open door leading to the bathroom. Straight ahead was a sliding glass door, heavy curtains pulled back to reveal the white balcony out looking the lake.

Miles closed the door to the room soundly behind them and cleared his throat.

“If we don’t sleep in the same room, it will look suspicious... but uh- I can sleep on the floor if you aren’t comfortable sharing the bed.”

Tristan drew his bottom lip between his teeth, stifling a smile, still looking out at the balcony. Why did Miles suddenly sound… _nervous? ___

____

____

“I don’t mind sharing a bed if you don’t,” Tristan said, turning to where the other boy was setting his duffle down on the comforter and unzipping it.

Miles let out a relieved sigh and looked over his shoulder, smiling at Tristan, that confidence back. “Phew, the floor would have been really uncomfortable.”

Tristan raised his eyebrows. “Just keep to your side, Hollingsworth.”

Miles laughed, digging through his bag. “Yes, sir.” 

Tristan’s stomach fluttered.

They took turns using the bathroom and changing out into clothes to sleep in, Tristan adverting his eyes when Miles stood shirtless in front of him before tugging on a t-shirt.

This boy was going to be the death of him.

“Do you have a preference to what side you sleep on?” Miles asked as they both stood awkwardly in front of the bed, the room relatively dark except for the glow of the lamp on the bedside table.

Tristan shook his head and Miles hummed, giving a shrug and starting for the bed.

Miles ended up on the left side and Tristan on the right, both pulling back the covers and climbing in beside each other, leaving half a foot of space between them.

Tristan settled on his back and Miles reached over to turn off the lamp, dark settling in the room as he turned and laid down, pulling the duvet back around them.

It was quiet for a couple minutes, Tristan blinking up at the ceiling, before Miles’ soft voice broke the silence.

“It wasn’t too bad today, was it?”

Tristan paused for a moment, before he turned on his side to face Miles, eyes adjusting in the dark to make out the shape of the other boy’s face.

“Not for me,” Tristan admitted. “But, what about you?”

There was a pause before Miles said quietly, unconvincingly, “It was fine.”

Tristan watched the other boy, looking so small, all soft and curled up in bed, the front he put on during the day no longer present, and Tristan felt the urge to close the short distance between them and fold his arms around him, and tell him that yes, his father’s a prick, but it’ll be okay, because Miles was brave and worthy of whatever life he wanted to live without anyone trying to control him. And if he couldn’t always be strong, that was okay, too.

But, he didn’t. Instead Tristan just said, “It’s okay if it wasn’t,” and hoped that was enough, hoped Miles knew he meant all the words he left unsaid.

Tristan saw the curve of his smile, before Miles whispered, “I really hate my dad.”

Tristan nodded, mirroring his small, sad smile. “I think I really hate him, too.”

Miles huffed a laugh, turning onto his back. “I’m pretty sure I picked the best boyfriend out there.”

Tristan blushed, hiding it against his pillow, closing his eyes. _Of course he did. ___

____

____

"Thank you," Miles whispered, sounding so honest and genuine. "For doing this."

Tristan smiled, sleepy. “Goodnight, Miles.”

“Night, Tris.”

 

And when Miles’ arms somehow ended up wrapped around him deep in sleep, Tristan unconsciously cuddled closer.


	3. Smoke Weed, Eat Yogurt

Tristan slowly drifted awake the next morning, too comfortable and warm to want to wake up, but he finally blinked open his eyes when he remembered where he was spending spring break. 

The birds were chirping outside, the sun was filtering through the cracks in the blinds of the balcony’s door, and there was a warm body curled around him underneath the comforter.

Tristan’s heartbeat sped up at the feeling of an arm tucked securely around his stomach, legs bent up to press against his, a warm even breath ghosting the back of his neck.

Miles was _spooning _him.__

____

__

Tristan’s breath caught, wondering when in the middle of the night they’d ended up in this position, Miles holding him, leaving Tristan so snug and relaxed and never wanting to get out of bed, despite the shiver now running up and down his spine.

He turned his head slowly, risking a careful glance over his shoulder, and letting out a sigh of relief when he realized the other boy was still sleeping.

Miles looked adorable. His face was pressed to the pillow and nose against Tristan’s skin, hair sticking up in tufts, t-shirt twisted from sleep and exposing unnecessary skin around his collarbone.

Tristan smiled to himself, watching the brunette sleep soundly, thinking about how fucking beautiful he was laying there.

Tristan wanted nothing more than to stay in bed and cuddle with Miles for as long as he could, for as long as he had this gift before Miles woke up and realized what he was doing. 

But, he figured it was probably a blessing that he had woken up first. 

Now, he could sneak out of bed and avoid facing Miles when he finally stirred and found himself wrapped around Tristan. He could dodge the awkwardness of the situation, because there was no way Miles had a clue he was holding him in his sleep. It must have just happened. 

And Tristan could try and pretend it didn’t for the sake of the rest of spring break.

He let himself lay there under Miles’ touch for another moment, relishing the warm feeling while he still had it, before he carefully picked up Miles’ arm and reluctantly slid out from his hold.

He pulled the duvet back up around Miles’ shoulders, the heavy sleeper barely even rousing at the shift in the bed as Tristan got up and headed for the bathroom.

A hot shower helped clear his mind and calm his body. He had a whole day ahead of him and he couldn’t get clouded with thoughts of the brunette quite so soon.

After getting dressed, Tristan debated what he should do as Miles was still fast asleep and it was already ten thirty, but he knew he couldn’t stay in the bedroom and watch the other boy sleep much longer. Not just because it was creepy, but also because it was making his mind run wild, which was what he was strictly trying to avoid at the moment due to waking up in Miles’ embrace.

He _could _wake him, but the last thing Tristan wanted to do was interrupt Miles’ peaceful slumber, especially when he looked so soft and delicate curled in bed.__

____

____

So, Tristan headed downstairs, finding Mrs. Hollingsworth in the kitchen and breakfast set out on the countertop.

“Good morning,” Mrs. Hollingsworth smiled up from where she was tapping off her half a glass full of orange juice with a bottle of champagne.

“Good morning.”

“There’s breakfast on the counter. Help yourself… Is Miles still sleeping?”

Tristan looked from the assortment of fruit and baked goods spread out on the island counter back to Diana with a sheepish smile. “Yeah, I didn’t want to wake him.”

“He’s lazy, isn’t he?” she teased, shaking her head lightly in amusement before taking a sip of her mimosa. “I knew letting him pick all afternoon classes would only result in him sleeping the days away.”

Tristan chuckled. He should have known Miles wasn’t a morning person. “I’ve gotten used to it,” he said. “My roommate is the exact same way.”

“So is his brother. But, luckily the girls are up, or else this house would be way too quiet in the mornings.”

Tristan busied himself with making a plate of food and sitting down at the counter to eat it, as Mrs. Hollingsworth asked him about school, his family, what he wanted to do after college. The conversation didn’t feel forced, and Tristan felt himself actually enjoying the company of Miles’ mom, getting to know her as she got to know him. She was sweet and enthusiastic and never left a lagging moment as she drank her mimosa and cleaned up the kitchen.

But, Tristan kept Miles’ words in the back of his mind, reminding himself that there was something false about her, something dimmer behind the pretense. She was always pretending to be someone she’s not.

Tristan had just cleared his plate when Miles trudged into the room, rubbing at his bleary eyes and clad in just boxers and a t-shirt, hair a ruffled mess.

Tristan took note that he’d taken off the gym shorts he’d slept in and tried not to look at the extra inches of skin now revealed on his thighs.

“Morning, baby,” Miles mumbled, voice groggy from sleep and Tristan smiled, thinking that could easily be something he got used to. Miles kissed his forehead.

“Good morning. Sleep well?” Tristan asked, looking up at him, and Miles hummed, leaning in to kiss his lips. Tristan’s heart pounded in response.

“Did you?” Miles asked, running his hand through the back of Tristan’s damp hair and down his neck.

Tristan nodded, thinking about the way Miles had been holding him in bed. He’d never slept better.

“Are you planning on sleeping all of vacation, Miles?” Mrs. Hollingsworth asked lightly, once Miles had moved away from Tristan to make himself a cup of coffee.

“It’s barely half past eleven, Mom. This is early for me,” he drawled and Tristan smiled at his grumpy expression. He was cute.

Miles moved to grab a bagel off the counter and took a bite out of it dry, chewing before continuing. “The only reason I got up was because I realized he left the bed,” he cocked his head in Tristan’s direction. “And I wanted to make sure you weren’t down here chewing him alive.”

Mrs. Hollingsworth laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, Miles.”

Miles’ voice sounded joking, but Tristan wasn’t so sure with the significant look he gave him. If Tristan had to guess, he’d say those green eyes were trying to read him, make sure he’s okay.

Tristan offered what he hoped was a convincing smile. He felt warm all over, thinking about how Miles had gotten out of bed just to check on him.

“We were just chatting, honey,” Diana said. “Anyways, you’re lucky I stopped your father from waking you up earlier. He wants to take you and Hunter golfing today.”

Miles turned to look at his mother with furrowed eyebrows and confusion. “Golfing?”

“Yes, you boys haven’t been to the golf course with your father in so long. It will be some fun father and son bonding time.”

Miles snorted. “I’m not going.”

Tristan watched the exchange, watched Mrs. Hollingsworth feign surprise. “Of course you are. Your dad really wants to spend time with you.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he does.” The sarcasm was thick rolling off his tongue, and he wasn’t meeting Tristan’s eyes, taking another bite of bagel and washing it down with coffee. “I’m spending the day with Tristan… and Tristan doesn’t know how to golf.”

_Well, _he wasn’t wrong about that.__

____

____

“I’m sure Tristan will be fine hanging out here today with the girls and Winston. We can all relax by the pool for a couple hours while you’re gone.” Diana’s voice was still bright like there was no problem, and Tristan felt a little bit resentful with the way she was ignoring the situation. She nodded at Tristan encouragingly.

Tristan smiled weakly, having no place to get in the middle of this. He wasn’t really the boyfriend here, and even if he was, this was Miles’ decision.

“You’ll behave and have a good time, Miles,” she said when she got no response from either of them.

Miles tossed his half eaten bagel in the trash, glaring at his mother before he crossed the room and slid open the back door, walking outside and leaving it open behind him. Tristan assumed he was supposed to follow.

“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Hollingsworth sighed, and Tristan gave her a sad look as he slid out of his chair at the counter and followed Miles outside, sliding the door closed after him.

Miles was standing a few steps in front of him and holding out his hand for Tristan to take.

Tristan reached for it, lacing their fingers together and falling into stroll beside him as they headed across the patio. He could see the girls on the grass hill in the distance, practicing yoga in front of the lake.

Miles still wasn’t looking at him, expression unreadable, and Tristan’s heart throbbed. He looked down at their intertwined fingers before deciding to squeeze his hand.

Miles looked at him and his face softened significantly, lips curving up in a small smile.

“I didn’t know if you wanted me to speak up in there,” Tristan started and Miles nodded, understanding.

“Probably best you didn’t. I don’t want you getting on their bad side.”

Miles’ voice was indifferent, but Tristan wondered how much weight those words actually held.

“Anyways, I know it’s stupid, but the reason I’m so against going is because it’s never _just _a game of golf,” Miles explained, voice gravelly as he ran his free hand through his messy hair. He cleared his throat. “I mean- my father has no interest spending quality time with me. It’s always mind games with him.” Miles looked away, back to the lake as they passed by the pool. Tristan watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed. He looked back and tipped his head to the side. “Will you be okay if I’m gone for a little bit?”__

____

____

Tristan wanted to tell him it wasn’t stupid. That he shouldn’t have to go, that he shouldn’t be forced to spend time with his father if he didn’t want to, that he’d fight them to let him stay. But, Tristan only nodded, smiling and running the pad of his thumb reassuringly across Miles’ hand.

Miles only returned the smile.

They were headed towards the three girls that were spread out on yoga mats on the slope of grass leading down to the water, dressed in sports bras and yoga pants and holding some pose that Tristan thought looked slightly ridiculous, their asses sticking up in the air.

As they got closer, he looked at Miles who was staring ahead now, bottom lip between his teeth and eyes unwavering. Tristan followed his line of sight directly to Lola’s butt and he rolled his eyes. Of course Miles was checking her out. That shouldn’t surprise him. He was just like every other college boy.

It still stung a little.

Frankie broke first, hearing them approach and falling to sit cross-legged on the purple mat. Her face scrunched up as she said, “Jesus, Miles, why don’t you put on pants before coming outside.”

Unsurprisingly, that immediately resulted in Lola giggling, falling out of her pose to look over appreciatively. Tristan tried to ignore the pang of jealousy. Shay sighed lightly and sat down.

Miles blinked out of it, glancing down as his boxers, unfazed. “Yeah, I bolted from the house pretty quickly, so…”

Frankie’s eyes widened. “Oh. Guess you heard about your little golf outing?” She sounded amused.

“Shut up, Frankenstein.”

Frankie held up her hands in surrender. “Just try to resolve whatever fight you get into _before _you come back to the house. I’d like to have a peaceful night for once and not have to listen to you both scream at each other.”__

____

____

“No one was screaming last night.”

“Only because dad locked himself in his office after dinner.”

Miles rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Can you girls take care of Tristan while I’m gone? Make sure he’s having fun and not bored the whole time?”

Frankie grinned at Tristan, eyebrows lifting in excitement, before looking back at her brother. “What, you really think he’s incapable of having fun if you’re not around?” she teased him.

Miles dropped his hand to wrap his arm around Tristan’s waist instead, pulling him against him, hand sliding down his side and around till it was gripping the front of his thigh. “No, but it does put a bummer on things.” He winked at Frankie.

Tristan tried not to squirm.

“Ew, don’t be gross!” Frankie tossed her water bottle at him and Miles let go as he laughed, batting it away.

Tristan choked out a chuckle, face blushing.

“Of course we’ll keep Tristan good company. We were planning on swimming and tanning by the pool?” Shay spoke up over the nonsense, looking to Tristan with a friendly smile and raised eyebrows in question.

Tristan tried to compose himself and nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good.” He turned to Miles who was already looking at him with that bright toothy grin. He had to play the act. “See, I’ll be fine, baby.”

Miles took a step forward, right in his space again, leaning forward to brush his nose against his. “You know I worry about you,” he said, voice low and husky, hands sliding up slightly from his waist and taking his shirt with it so they were resting on the bare skin of his torso.

Miles’ hands were heavy, _and _burning, and Tristan was barely breathing.__

____

____

Then, Miles was kissing him again, moving his lips against his softly, but with purpose. Tristan’s hands grabbed ahold of Miles’ waist to keep himself steady as their lips continued tugging together. He certainly wasn’t going to be the first one to break the kissing.

“Oh my god, go make out somewhere else, so we can finish doing yoga,” Frankie complained, but it was barely audible over the sound of Tristan’s heart pounding in his ears.

Miles pulled off of sucking on Tristan’s bottom lip with a laugh and looked as his sister. “Okay, okay, we’ll leave you to it. Just take care of my boy while I’m gone later, alright?”

_My boy. ___

____

____

Tristan was breathing a little heavy, now, and his head was swirling from the kisses, and Miles took his hand to lead him back towards the house.

“Yeah, yeah, we will,” Frankie promised.

“Bye, Miles!” Lola called after them as they walked away.

Miles put some distance between them and the girls before he was shaking Tristan’s hand lightly to get his attention, _like he didn’t already have it. _“Hey, I think you might be better at this than I am.”__

____

____

Tristan looked over at him, meeting his smile with a confused quirk of his eyebrow. “Hm?”

“Pretending to be my boyfriend?” Miles swung their still intertwined hands, knocking them into Tristan’s leg. “You’re really convincing, better than me maybe… and trust me, I’ve had loads of practice lying to my family.” He smiled. “I mean, your acting-- they don’t just believe we’re dating… they believe we’re _in love. _”__

____

____

_Maybe that’s because it’s not acting. ___

____

____

Tristan chewed on his lip, ignoring the bitter taste in his mouth, and wiping that thought from his mind the second it entered. 

Instead, he looked at those glowing green eyes, and he didn’t know what to say. Every thought running through his head currently was not something he should say aloud if he ever wanted to keep his dignity intact. 

“So, thank you,” Miles said, grinning. “I guess we make a pretty great team.”

Tristan blinked at him and then he chuckled, nervously, smiling and looking away to save himself. “Yeah, I guess so.”

When they reentered the house, Winston was lounging on the couch in the living room watching TV and Mr. Hollingsworth was setting a bag with a full set of golf clubs down against the wall of the hallway leading into the kitchen.

“Miles,” his father appraised immediately once Tristan had slid the glass door shut behind them, and Miles gripped his hand tighter. “Go wake your brother and get dressed.”

Miles looked numbly at his father for a moment. Then he turned to Tristan and nodded, picking his hand up and pressing a kiss to his knuckles before letting go.

Tristan watched him slip by his father to disappear through the hallway. When he looked to Mr. Hollingsworth, he found the man already staring back and Tristan visibly flinched. He quickly looked away, hoping he didn’t try to speak to him, and headed into the living room to plop down on the leather couch next to Winston.

When Miles returned twenty minutes later, freshly showered and dressed, with Hunter in tow, he came around the couch to say goodbye to Tristan. 

Feeling the presence of his father standing at the edge of the room, both boys drew out their parting kiss, with lingering lips and wandering hands, until Mr. Hollingsworth cleared his throat roughly and Miles sighed and pulled away.

“I’ll see you later,” Miles said, leaning in to give him another peck on the lips before pushing up from the couch, throwing a salute in Winston’s direction and following his father and brother out of the room.

Tristan was still catching his breath when he looked at Winston, who was smirking and shaking his head, eyes glued on the TV.

“Miles likes to put on quite the show, doesn’t he?” Winston observed, not sparing him a glance.

Tristan swallowed, eyes growing wide and finding his voice a tad too late. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“ _Sure _you don’t.”__

____

____

Tristan looked back to the TV, choosing to ignore his comment, although there was an uneasy feeling settling in his gut. Because if Winston knew they were faking it, and the rest of the family knew they were faking it, then the whole thing would be called off.

This was Miles’ _best _friend, though, and therefore probably the hardest one to trust that Miles was suddenly into dudes. If Winston really suspected anything, there was nothing Tristan could do about it until Miles returned home.__

____

____

 

Tristan spent the day by the pool with the girls and Winston. It was casual, the five of them laying out in loungers, Frankie, Lola and Shay gossiping about high school and celebrities that Tristan sometimes joined in on. Thankfully, there were no questions directed at him that he couldn’t answer, and he even learned a little more about Miles when the group dropped his name every now and then and Tristan would just smile and nod and act like he had already heard the stories they shared about the brunette. 

The girls were fun, Frankie reminding him much of his best friend Zoe, and even Winston was entertaining doing flips into the pool. Tristan surprisingly found himself enjoying the day with them, despite Miles’ absence, and thought that maybe this week would be all the more better now that he’d made friends with the four of them.

It was late in the afternoon when Miles finally emerged from the house, approaching the pool looking tense and off and shaken up. His fingers were fidgeting by his legs and his eyes were dark and unreadable, his lips slightly pursed.

The light conversation happening immediately trailed off as he came to stand by the pool, everyone looking to him, but Miles seemed keen on staring at nothing in particular instead.

Tristan stared at him, wide eyed, wishing he could hear what was going on in the other boy’s head, figure out what had happened in the past few hours that drained all the light out of him.

Tristan felt sick.

“How was it, man?” Winston asked, nearly wincing as he realized what a stupid question that was, and Frankie reached over to smack his arm.

Miles closed his eyes and when he opened them, there seemed to be a little resolve in his expression, and he said with a nod of his head, “Let’s all get drunk tonight.”

The atmosphere lightened significantly at that comment, like that was a normal response for Miles, and Winston’s face grew into a huge grin. “Party on the patio?”

“You know it, Chewy.”

Frankie and Lola squealed before clapping hands with each other and Winston chuckled before standing up to pat his best friend on the shoulder. “Now, that’s more like it.”

Miles smiled, but it looked forced and didn’t meet his eyes and all Tristan wanted him to do was join him on the lounge chair like yesterday so he could wrap him up in his arms and hold him tight.

But, when Miles finally met his gaze all he said was, “Walk with me down by the lake?”

Tristan nodded and Miles smiled a little more genuine and that helped ease Tristan’s worries slightly.

He stood up and Miles took his hand and led him away from the group who were now planning what drinks to make tonight. They were both quiet as they strolled past the pool and down the grassy hill and onto the rocky beach, where the only sound was the water lapping at the edge of the white rocks.

Tristan hadn’t been down to the lake, yet, and it was all the more magical up close where all he saw was the wide stretch of blue water, the horizon in the distance where the orange sun was starting to set, and of course Miles’ profile beside him.

They walked along the shore, heading towards one of the smooth docks leading out into the lake, the one without the boats. They stepped onto the wooden planks, walking down it still hand in hand, feeling the light breeze pass over them.

The quiet was nice and comfortable, but Tristan still felt that tension clinging to the other boy, making him feel just as uneasy and wondering if he should say something.

“How was it today?” Miles asked first, finally breaking the silence as they both stared out at the water.

“Um- it was good. We just hung out by the pool, and the girls are a lot of fun to talk to and all of them were very entertaining,” Tristan rambled and nodded. “I had a good time.”

Miles looked over at him and smiled. “I’m glad. Should I give them an A+ for treating my boyfriend then?”

Tristan smiled and looked down to hide his blush. “Yeah, I think so.”

They reached the end of the dock and Miles let go of his hand then, dropping to sit cross-legged on the wood. Tristan stared at him for a moment before following suit and sitting down next to him.

The comforting silence fell between them again, both wrapped up in their own thoughts, and this time Tristan was the one to break it first, remembering what he actually _needed _to tell Miles. “Um- I had a strange conversation with Winston earlier.”__

____

____

Miles hummed, glancing at him before looking back to the water lapping at the wooden stilts holding the dock. “Conversations with Chewy are _always _strange.”__

____

____

Tristan couldn’t help but laugh at that. “No, I mean… I think he suspects we aren’t really together.”

Miles looked at him for real now, honest green eyes landing on him as he asked, “Why do you think so?”

“No- he just- he made it seem like he _knew _that we're pretending.”__

____

____

Miles gazed back out at the lake, breeze blowing a strand of hair across his forehead, and Tristan’s fingers itched to brush it back. Miles shifted, digging his hand into the front pocket of his khaki shorts, and Tristan wasn’t really surprised when he pulled out a blunt and a lighter.

He twirled the blunt between his fingers, considering. “Chewy knows me better than anyone else. I’m not really surprised he suspects something.”

Tristan watched Miles stick the blunt between his lips and lean forward to light it. He drew from it, holding in the smoke before tipping his head up and blowing it out above him. The smoke lingered in the air before being carried away by the breeze.

“I’m not really worried, though. Chewy would never say anything to my parents about it. He’ll probably just try and talk me out of it.” Miles’ eyes flickered to Tristan and he held out the blunt in offering.

Tristan stared at it for a moment and then he took it with tentative fingers, taking a small drag and resisting the urge to cough as he blew out smoke. He rarely smoked at college.

As he handed back the blunt, he met Miles’ amused expression and quickly looked away.

He selfishly wished Winston wouldn’t be able to talk Miles out of it.

After a while of passing the blunt back and forth between them, letting the weed reach their lungs and leave the atmosphere a little lighter, Tristan finally grew the confidence to broach the subject that had been weighing on his mind ever since Miles had returned from spending the day with his father. 

He looked at Miles who was staring at his knees that he had brought up to his chest, eyebrows furrowed, distracted by whatever storm was going on in his mind at the moment. It made Tristan sad.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He expected Miles to play dumb and ask what, but the brunette just looked at him and understood. “No, not really,” he said quietly. He stubbed the end of the blunt out against the dock and then flicked it into the water. Then, the corner of his mouth tipped up in a small smile. “Will you distract me instead?”

“Distract you?” Tristan asked, unsure.

“Yeah, just talk about something. Anything.”

And so Tristan did.

He talked about himself. He talked about the small lake his parents used to bring him and his brother, Owen, to when they were younger, before his parents got divorced. He talked about how he missed his best friend Zoe, how he’d ditched her for spring break, and she still hadn’t forgiven him completely. He talked about the obnoxious Snapchats he’d received from his roommate, Josh, this morning, and his other friends, who were all drunk in Miami. He talked about how much their RA pissed him off and how she was constantly up his ass because their dorm room always had that faint smell of weed, courtesy of Josh.

And Miles listened.

He watched Tristan and he hung onto his every word and he laughed with him and he asked him questions. And the conversation was light, but it also _wasn’t. _Their eyes lingered on each other for moments too long, and they were sitting close enough that their knees sometimes brushed against each other’s, and despite only really knowing Miles for a couple days, Tristan felt like he’d known him _forever. _____

_____ _

_____ _

And maybe it _was _just the weed. Maybe Tristan was just imagining that they had this instant connection with one another that made spending time like this feel so- so _easy.___

_____ _

_____ _

But, Tristan didn’t care. Because this feeling right now, this feeling of warmth and understanding and security between them, Tristan wouldn’t trade it for the world.

And with the way Miles was looking at him, with those glazed, sparkling eyes that made his heart try and beat its way out of his chest, Tristan thought that maybe, just maybe, he could feel the same way.

“Hey, love birds!” Hunter called, voice far away, breaking their attention from one another. “Dinner’s almost ready!”

Miles broke Tristan’s eye contact then with a huff of laughter, looking over his shoulder, and Tristan glanced back, too, back at the shore where Hunter was standing on the rocky beach.

“We’ll be there in a second!” Miles yelled, then he was looking back at Tristan and his voice was much quieter when he said, “Kiss me.”

And Tristan did. Without second thought, without thinking that this was only because Hunter was watching them, without thinking about the repercussions of kissing Miles when he had such strong feelings for him. He cupped the back of his neck and leaned in and kissed him, soft and warmhearted, and Miles brought his hand up to trail along Tristan’s cheek tenderly, before they pulled away slowly and looked into each other’s eyes and just smiled.

They stood up from the dock and headed back up towards the house to join his family for dinner.

Mr. Hollingsworth was oddly absent from the table, and nobody commented on it.

 

A few hours after dinner, the sun had long set over the lake and the temperature had cooled just a little, making for the perfect night to spend outdoors. Tristan was hanging out on the patio with the girls while Miles and Winston rummaged around, trying to set up a table outside for beer pong, but it seemed like they were more just goofing off.

Tristan was relieved to see the light had returned to Miles’ eyes along with that bright smile ever since they talked on the dock. Seeing Miles enjoying himself made Tristan happy, and even if this calm was just for now, he’d still savor it.

Tristan watched him from where he stood behind the outdoor bar with the three girls. Frankie had the bright idea to get the blender out and started mixing frozen drinks with copious amounts of tequila in them, and Lola was slicing limes.

The boys had finally figured out how to open the card table, and now Miles was winding up his arm and chucking a ping pong ball at Winston, both of them curling over in laughter as Winston unsuccessfully dodged it, and the sound of Miles’ laugh making Tristan smile fondly.

“Idiots,” Shay observed, shaking her head and smiling where she stood next to Tristan.

Once the laughter had subsided, Miles and Winston joined the rest of them by the bar, Miles leaning his hands onto the marble surface and tapping them in a beat.

“What’re we drinking?” he asked, with that toothy smile and a wink in Tristan’s direction when he caught the other boy staring.

“Margaritas,” Lola told him, tossing a sliced lime at him that landed on the counter after bouncing off his arm.

Miles scrunched up his face, unimpressed. He leaned around the bar, opening and closing a couple cabinets underneath before pulling out a sleeve of plastic red shot glasses. He, then, snagged the bottle of tequila that Frankie tried to make a grab for to stop him, but she wasn’t quite quick enough.

Miles set up six of the miniature cups in a line and declared, “Shots, who’s in?”

Frankie and Lola agreed enthusiastically, as well as Winston, and Shay declined politely, saying she planned on sticking to beer.

“Tris?” Miles asked, looking at him with raised eyebrows and a smile that made Tristan feel drunk already, even though he’d only had one beer with dinner. “You in?”

Tristan looked at him, internally weighing the pros and cons of drinking hard liquor tonight. He didn’t think he trusted himself to not speak or act on his feelings in an intoxicated state. But, honestly at this point, with Miles looking at him like that, what did he have to lose?

_Everything. ___

____

____

“I’m in,” Tristan said with a short nod, and he didn’t miss the way Miles’ grin grew wider.

Miles poured the shots, filling them to the brim before distributing them out to everyone sans Shay.

“To spring break,” he cheered, raising his shot glass and everyone did the same, tapping them together over the bar counter before drinking. 

Miles locked eyes with Tristan, a spark between them, and they both tipped the liquor back.

Tristan’s face scrunched up at the burn. The girls were chasing with margarita mix, and Winston was shaking his head and making a sound past the taste of tequila. Of course Miles appeared completely unfazed, already pouring another round.

And so, one shot, quickly became two, which turned into three. And Tristan lost count after the fourth.

Maybe it wasn’t the brightest idea to get drunk. But, there was no turning back now.

 

_Do you slide on all your nights like this? ___

____

____

Miles was swaying beside him to the music blaring out of the outdoor speakers, one arm wrapped around Tristan’s waist, the other holding a bottle of whiskey that he was religiously drinking from. 

Miles was wasted, but _weren’t they all? ___

____

____

They were watching Frankie and Shay destroy Lola and Winston in a game of beer pong. Lola and Winston were already down to their last cup. It hadn’t been a very exciting game.

Miles bumped their hips together and Tristan’s heart jumped. He looked away from Frankie aiming the ping pong ball, over to the brunette who was turned towards him now, mouthing the words to the song with a lopsided grin, setting the bottle of whiskey down on the table.

_Do you try on all your nights like this? I might. ___

____

____

Tristan laughed, watching Miles bob his head and make stupid hand gestures to the music, eyebrows raised at him, serenading him. He clearly didn’t know all the words.

Frankie sunk the ball and her and Shay erupted in cheers, Winston grumbling and Lola claiming it was his fault they lost. Shay called them sore losers. 

Miles held all of Tristan’s attention, though. Tristan’s eyes were glued to him dancing ridiculously in front of him, lit up in amusement at the sight.

The song changed and it became even worse. _Or better. ___

____

____

“Justin Bieber!” Frankie squealed.

_Yeah you’re looking at the truth, the money never lie no.  
I’m the one, yeah, I’m the one. ___

_____ _

_____ _

Miles pointed at his chest dramatically, mouthing all of the words, and stepping closer to Tristan before singing the next line to him.

_Early mornin’ in the dawn, know you wanna ride now. ___

____

____

Tristan gulped, eyes darkening.

_I’m the one, yeah, I’m the one, yeah. ___

____

____

Miles patted his chest again, eyes flickering to Tristan’s lips and he opened his mouth, but before he could get the next line out, Tristan dragged him the rest of the way in by the back of his neck and kissed him. 

Miles stumbled at first, hands faltering to Tristan’s waist to catch himself, and then he was kissing back. It wasn’t soft and gentle anymore. It was mouths mushed together, sloppy kisses filled with lust and want and Tristan’s head was spinning wild.

Miles’ hands squeezed his waist and Tristan nearly moaned into his mouth, hands trailing up to grip strands of dark hair and tug on it. There bodies were pressed together, _so close _together, and there was electricity coursing through Tristan and he wasn’t sure he’d every have this feeling again.__

____

____

Tristan kissed Miles like the world was exploding.

And Miles kissed him back so he knew it wasn’t.

_I’m the only one. ___

____

____

It had to be several minutes of kissing before the voices finally grew loud enough for Tristan to hear them over the music and his pounding heart.

“Is this what you guys do at college parties? Get drunk and suck face?” Frankie crowed and the group was laughing.

They pulled a part, lips smacking, and Tristan was gasping for air. Miles was looking at him, eyes hooded and lips shiny, but he was huffing in amusement, breath fanning against Tristan’s wet mouth.

“Usually,” Miles told her shamelessly, still looking at Tristan with smoldering eyes and blown pupils. _God, _he was so hot.__

____

____

Tristan was drunk. Miles was drunk. But, he _had _to have felt that. There was no way he hadn’t. No matter the amount of alcohol swimming in his system, Tristan couldn’t make up the desire for one another they shared in that moment.__

____

____

It _wasn’t _an act.__

____

____

Tristan inched to kiss him again.

“Alright, enough making out,” Winston declared, stopping Tristan in his tracks. It was probably for the best, anyways. He was pretty drunk and none of this would make sense tomorrow.

“Miles and Tristan versus me and Frankie in beer pong. Right now,” Winston challenged and of course Miles stepped up to the table, tugging Tristan alongside him, starting to fill the red solo cups halfway with beer.

“You don’t stand a chance,” Miles scoffed across the table at his best friend, wrapping his arm around Tristan to pull him in and kiss the side of his face.

In the end, Miles and Tristan won and they threw their arms around each other and kissed after every ball that landed in their opponent’s cup.

 

Things were a little blurry after beer pong. There was more drinking, more dancing, more laughing, more kissing.

The next thing Tristan knew he was slumped over, vomiting into a toilet, forearms propping him up shakily over the toilet seat, knees pressed into the cold tile floor.

“It’s okay,” someone was saying. “You’re okay,” Miles was saying, his hand on Tristan’s back, running over his forehead, through his hair, up and down his spine.

Tristan groaned and threw up some more, vomit burning his mouth and nose. There were tears stinging his eyes. It wasn’t pretty.

When he thought it was over, Tristan weakly turned his head to the side and Miles was knelt right beside him, one arm holding him up, the other rubbing his back over his shirt. They were in the bathroom attached to their bedroom.

Tristan caught Miles’ eyes, and he could tell the brunette’s vision was unfocused, a little hazy. “It’s okay. It’ll pass. You’ll feel much better soon,” Miles reassured him.

“What happened?” Tristan croaked, because he had no recollection of how he got back upstairs to their bedroom.

Miles smiled apologetically. “Too much tequila happened.”

Tristan groaned and vomited into the toilet. Miles flushed it when he was done wrenching and wiped his face with a wet washcloth.

He must have drifted off after emptying his stomach, because when he woke not long after, he was still on the floor leaning against the toilet. Miles was sitting next to him, propped against the wall with his legs stretched out, staring at the floor as he continued tracing circles against Tristan’s back with his fingertips.

Tristan shifted and Miles’ eyes snapped to him as he sat up straighter.

“Do you feel any better?” he asked, pulling his hand back.

Tristan considered it and nodded. He was still drunk obviously, but he no longer felt dizzy or nauseous. Apparently throwing up _did _make him feel better. “Yeah, much better,” he mumbled, pushing himself to stand up on wobbly legs. “Were you planning on letting me sleep here all night?” he teased.__

____

____

Miles laughed. “Well, I didn’t think I could manage carrying you to bed.” He stood up also. “Maybe when I’m sober, but definitely not tonight,” he said with a grin.

Tristan grinned back.

They brushed their teeth side by side, both looking in the mirror at each other and making each other laugh. Miles was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, brushing his teeth a little dramatically, with white foam gathering in the corners of his lips. It was cute and he was making funny faces and Tristan was laughing and making them back. He didn’t realize brushing his teeth while drunk could be this fun. Especially with Miles.

Miles spat into the sink first and rinsed his mouth. He hopped onto the counter and sat facing Tristan, watching him and waiting for him to finish. Tristan was still trying to get rid of the taste of alcohol and vomit.

He spat and splashed water on his mouth. He rinsed with mouthwash. Miles was still watching him as he straightened and shut off the tap and Tristan finally met his curious stare with a raise of his eyebrows.

Miles reached over and trailed two fingers delicately over the pale skin along Tristan’s neck, leaving goose bumps behind. “Let me give you a hickey,” Miles said.

Tristan’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “Um.”

Miles looked away, down at the tiled floor, letting his hand drop back to grip the edge of the counter. “I mean, it would probably drive my dad crazy.”

_It would drive Tristan crazy, too. _“Um- okay, sure.” Tristan felt his face heat up.__

____

____

Miles looked back at him, a little surprised. “Yeah?”

Tristan shrugged. “Yeah, I don’t care.” _Of course, _he cared. Miles wanted to suck his neck and leave a mark on his skin. The thought alone was driving him up the wall.__

____

____

“Are you sure?”

Tristan shrugged again, looking into glassy green eyes. “I don’t mind.”

There was a beat where they just stared at each other and than Miles hopped off the vanity and stood in front of Tristan. He brought a warm hand to his neck and tilted Tristan’s head to the side gently, and then just like that, he was leaning in and connected his lips to Tristan’s flesh.

It was soft at first, his open mouth tracing his skin, high enough so there was no way any shirt would cover it and a little to the left. He sucked lightly on the skin, tentatively, and then the suction increased and Miles was moving his tongue against the skin to soothe it.

It was _hot, _and Tristan was sweating and his breathing was coming out strangled and uneven, and he _prayed _it wouldn’t last long enough to give him a boner. Because it felt _amazing _and he never wanted Miles’ mouth off him.______

_____ _

_____ _

There was the graze of teeth, and Tristan felt the pulse of his vein in his neck, and then Miles swiped his tongue against the skin once more before pulling back. 

His eyes were on Tristan’s neck as he straightened, admiring his work, pressing his thumb into the mark, making it throb.

Tristan turned to look at it in the mirror, and sure enough there was a dark reddish-purplish hickey on his neck in the shape of Miles’ mouth. He brushed his fingers against it and smiled. 

He loved it.

“Looks good on you,” Miles said, winking at him in the mirror before leaving him alone in the bathroom.

When his heart finally settled, Tristan got changed and joined him in bed. They were both passed out within minutes.


	4. If You Don't Swim, You'll Drown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took so long, but here it is. Thank you so much for being patient and I promise I am going to do my best to get chapters out quicker to you guys!! A very special thanks to Ryan for letting me wake him up at 3am to proofread this and for dealing with the breakdown I had halfway through writing this chapter. I love ya long time, buddy. As always, all mistakes are mine. Thank you for reading and enjoy!

It wasn’t the usual; waking up slowly, letting closed eyelids adjust to the brightness before finally fluttering them open, curling up further into the warmth of the comforter, meeting the morning at a lazy pace.

It was jolting awake, body shuddering under the sheets, eyes darting open to the uncomfortable light, head pounding vigorously in his skull.

It was waking up with an excruciating hangover.

He met Miles’ gaze beside him, amusement flickering the brunette’s smile where he laid next to him in bed, above the comforter, hair damp from the shower and dressed in a tank top and swim trunks. He was turned on his side watching him.

Tristan groaned, squinting his eyes shut, sinking his head further into the pillow. He didn’t need to look to know Miles’ smile grew wider.

“Rough night, huh?”

“Shut up,” Tristan groaned, covering his face with his hands, and Miles laughed lightly.

“The tequila was probably a bad idea.”

Tristan opened his eyes. “Don’t say tequila,” he warned. “I’m never drinking again.”

Miles’ eyes crinkled at the corners. “That’s a lie.”

“Ugh.” Tristan rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. His head was making it hard for him to think clearly, slowly remembering the events of the past night.

There had been kissing. _Lots_ of it.

“We’re taking the boat out today to have some fun out on the lake,” Miles told him.

Tristan turned his head to look at him with somewhat of a grimace, because he didn’t feel like leaving this bed at all today.

Miles smiled and raised his eyebrows. “You need to shower and then you’ll feel better. I left you water and some Advil.” Miles gestured with his chin to the nightstand on the other side of Tristan.

With the way his head ached, Tristan severely doubted he’d be feeling better any time soon. But, sure enough, there was a glass of water waiting for him with two pills and Tristan pushed up from the bed eagerly to swallow the ibuprofen and down the glass of water. 

Miles watched him, clearly entertained by his suffering, and Tristan turned to him skeptically. “How aren’t _you_ hung over?”

Miles chuckled and sat up in bed, face soft, maybe still from sleep. “Apparently I can handle my liquor much better than you can.” He tilted his head, thinking, before adding, “I also wasn’t the one barfing my brains out last night.”

Tristan had flashbacks of hurling into the toilet and Miles right beside him, taking care of him. His face flushed in embarrassment as he panicked. “Shit- I’m sorry.”

Miles laughed again. “Don’t even worry about it, Tristan,” he said, shaking his head. “It happens.” Miles shrugged, indifferent. “Plus, you weren’t the only one that got sick. Frankie said she heard Chewy throwing up around four… although that’s not really surprising.”

“Huh. Well, you _are_ the one that kept pouring the shots, so if there’s anyone to blame it’s probably yourself,” Tristan teased with a shy smile. He was still a little mortified that he’d drunk himself sick. Usually he was the one taking care of his inebriated friends at parties, not the other way around.

“Oh- so it’s _my_ fault everyone got shitfaced?” Miles asked with a winning grin, and Tristan just laughed, leaning back against the headboard. “In all fairness, I don’t even remember pouring the drinks.”

That made Tristan’s stomach sink a little, recalling that Miles had been just as drunk as he was, or probably more. Maybe he also didn’t remember all the kissing and touching that happened outside, or at least he certainly hadn’t felt anything from it.

Apparently Miles was a better actor drunk than sober. He’d almost had even Tristan believing they were really together.

Tristan ignored the disappointment radiating through him. He yawned and sunk back down into bed, pulling the covers back over himself.

“Nuh-uh- no way, get up,” Miles protested with a chuckle, watching Tristan’s eyes flutter back close.

There was shuffling and then Tristan felt a pillow smack into his chest and his eyes shot open in surprise to Miles, kneeling on the bed, clutching the pillow in his hands innocently. Tristan arched an eyebrow and grinned at the brunette. “Seriously, is that any way to treat your boyfriend?”

Miles laughed and hit him with the pillow again. “Get up! Go shower and get dressed.”

Miles was practically bouncing on his knees now, making the whole bed shake as he threw the pillow at him. Tristan groaned and sat up again. “Alright, alright, I’m moving.”

He met Miles’ cheerful expression, and Tristan tried to keep his scowl, but looking into those bright green eyes, he couldn’t help the way his mouth twitched up into a smile.

He was already _that_ gone.

“I’ll be downstairs,” Miles told him, leaving the room as Tristan dragged himself from bed.

It wasn’t until Tristan reached the bathroom and turned on the water to the shower, that he finally looked at himself in the mirror. At first he just saw the disaster that was his hangover, but then his eyes flickered to the dark hickey blooming near his throat.

_Fuck_ Miles.

_This_ he could remember vividly. Miles’ hot mouth on him, in this very bathroom, kissing and sucking and biting the skin of his neck, marking him as his own.

Tristan could feel the heat of the memory pooling in his stomach, looking at himself in the mirror, bringing his hand up to brush his fingers softly across the bruise Miles had given him.

“Looks good on you.”

Tristan shivered, shaking himself out of it and hopped into the shower.

 

He didn’t find Miles downstairs in the kitchen or living room when he finally emerged from their bedroom, feeling significantly better from showering. Instead, he found the one person he had no interest in seeing, especially with his barely lifted hangover. He considered doing a complete 360 and heading right back upstairs, but when piercing brown eyes landed on him, he froze in place and thought against it.

Mr. Hollingsworth was standing at the counter, steaming cup of coffee in hand, and Tristan flinched, wondering if Miles’ father had the strong urge to throw it on him with the way his hand was gripping the mug tightly, hand shaking and knuckles white.

“Good morning,” Tristan managed, words barely making it past his throat, staring back wide eyed and alarmed.

Mr. Hollingsworth squinted his eyes at him and didn’t say anything for a long moment, Tristan shifting uncomfortably until the older man cocked his head towards the back door. “Miles is outside getting the boat ready.” It wasn’t said for Tristan’s benefit, more that Mr. Hollingsworth probably wanted his son’s boyfriend out of his line of sight as quickly as possible.

Tristan nodded swiftly, glancing at the glass windows outside and moving to head out and join them, but his name spoken deep and harsh stropped him immediately in his tracks and he turned back nervously.

“Tristan.”

Mr. Hollingsworth’s hard gaze was on him again, visibly dropped this time to his neck instead, and Tristan knew exactly what he was staring at with that deeply knitted scowl, felt the ache of it on his neck. _The hickey._

Tristan swallowed hard, panicking. Where the fuck was Miles? This was _his_ doing anyways. “Uh-”

“You know, I’m not quite sure what has gotten into Miles,” Mr. Hollingsworth started, tilting his head and glaring at Tristan, who only gaped back. “He was dating girls before and now he’s kissing boys now. I mean it’s _completely_ ridiculous.” He set his mug down, hard enough that some coffee spilled over the rim and onto the marble counter. Tristan stared at it, not breathing, not moving. 

“He’s not _in love_ with you, Tristan. My son is incapable of giving a crap about anyone, but himself,” he scoffed, shaking his head, and Tristan was starting to seethe. “You’re foolish if you think your relationship with him is anything real.” He sounded amused now.

Tristan bit his tongue hard, eyebrows furrowed deeply together, staring blankly at the countertop between them because he couldn’t even look at the man in front of him. He was too disgusted.

How could anyone ever say those things about their son- about _Miles_ of all people? Tristan wasn’t even upset that Mr. Hollingsworth was cornering him and saying these hurtful things to scare him away. No, he was upset because Miles had been right. His father was trying to control his son and would never accept him for who he truly was, even if he wasn’t really gay, or bisexual, or whatever. This was about more than just that. Miles was still a fucking amazing person and it was clear to Tristan that Mr. Hollingsworth would never see that. And what a fucking shame that was. 

Sure, Tristan was aware that Miles had issues- issues that he couldn’t begin to understand or find answers to. But, fucking hell, if Tristan knew one thing it was that those issues stemmed directly from his childhood and the way he was raised, starting particularly with the villain standing in front of him.

Tristan’s eyes were stinging, and he cursed under his breath because he _knew_ \- he knew now was not the time to show his weakness, even if it was all for Miles and not himself. It was also not the time to show how fucking furious he was and flip out on the father figure, because surely, Miles would not appreciate him being kicked out of the lake house. So, he swallowed back those emotions, nearly choking on them, and raised his eyes to glower at Mr. Hollingsworth.

“You have an amazing son,” Tristan spoke, voice trembling slightly and he set his jaw to try and steady himself. “He’s one of the most caring people I’ve ever met. And- and everyone loves him- _I love him_.” _He’d do anything to protect him._

Tristan pitied himself for how true the words actually were. But, now wasn’t the time for him to feel sorry for how stupid he’d been allowing himself to fall for Miles. He’d known this was going to happen.

_It was still fucking scary._

Tristan cleared his throat, gaining back some confidence as he did so. “It shouldn’t matter who Miles loves, because he’s still an honestly strong and remarkable person… and it’s nothing but _sad_ that you can’t see that.” The last of the sentence tasted like venom as Tristan spit the truth out.

Mr. Hollingsworth snorted and Tristan couldn’t stand another second of his self-absorbed expression. He turned on his heels before he could say what _else_ he was really feeling, heading out the back door and sliding the door shut tightly behind him. _Screw_ breakfast. It wasn’t worth another second in that kitchen.

He sucked in a deep breath once he was outside, collecting himself as he looked around the yard for Miles and started walking towards the lake.

They were down by the water, Miles standing on the deck of the slick white boat, leaning over the metal railing and laughing with the girls that were standing on the dock barefooted in bikinis. The sun was high and bright in the sky, beating down on the lake and blinding the girls that were looking up at Miles and now Winston on the boat.

Tristan put on his best smile, urgently trying to forget all about his conversation in the kitchen. Miles said they’d have a fun day out on the lake, and Tristan wanted that- needed them to just take it easy and have a good time like the teenagers they were. This was spring break, after all.

“Hey, about time!” Winston called, catching sight of Tristan as he stumbled along the noisy rocks lining the shore, reaching the wooden dock. 

Miles looked over and grinned, big and beautiful, throwing his arms out wide and whistling at him. “Finally! There my boy!”

Tristan’s heart did that _thing_ in his chest and his mouth cracked open into a real smile now as he walked down the pier to join them. _God_ , how just the sight of Miles could make his mood change like the flip of a switch was beyond him.

He followed Frankie, Shay and Lola onto the boat and up the steps to the deck where the boys were waiting. And there was Miles, with his blue swim trunks clinging to his thighs and his biceps exposed in the loose tank top he was wearing, and his hair all windswept and highlighted by the sun, and that _damn_ toothy smile spread across his face, looking at him. 

Tristan surprised himself by immediately closing the distance between them and pulling him into a hot kiss that Miles laughed into and then willingly reciprocated.

Pulling back after a long moment of just lips tugging together with touches of tongue, Miles grinned before leaning in to peck his lips again and again. “What was that for?” he asked, voice soft and making Tristan’s heart melt.

Tristan was glowing too much to feel embarrassed. He shook himself out of it a little, reminding himself, _this isn’t real._ “You’re just irresistible in those swim trunks,” he said, voice teasing, earning himself a loud groan from Winston that both boys laughed at.

“Looks like Tristan was the one irresistible last night with that hickey on his neck,” Frankie exclaimed, and now everyone was laughing and Tristan was blushing profusely, bringing his hand up to cover the mark, looking into bright green eyes that were just maybe a little sheepish now.

“Shut up, Frankenstein.”

Tristan stepped back when the laughter settled down, deciding he needed a clear head if he was going to stick to the game plan on this boat trip, and he sure as hell wasn’t thinking clearly with Miles looking at him like that so closely. He needed to breathe and stop acting on his impulsive feelings.

Frankie and Lola were lying down on the deck to tan, parts of the boat cushioned with white leather that turned up like a couch. Shay was entertained by watching a sluggish Winston reach out and yank the ropes off the dock that were keeping the boat tied to shore.

Miles tugged his hand and Tristan looked back to him curiously. “Come on,” he said. “I wanna show you something.”

Tristan followed him inside the boat where they sat down in front of a wide tinted window that overlooked the lake, and Miles began flipping switches on the panel of controls behind the steering wheel in front of him.

“You’re driving the boat?” Tristan asked, a little disbelievingly. He trusted Miles with a lot of things, but he wasn’t sure this was one of them.

Miles gave him a look. “What? You don’t think I know how?” His voice was light and playful and Tristan just laughed at him, shaking his head. “I’ll have you know, I’ve had my boating license since I was sixteen,” he said, smart-mouthed and matter-of-factly, looking back to the gears in front of him and starting the engine.

“Okay, I believe you,” Tristan said, still giggling, watching Miles fool around with the dash panel.

“Okay,” Miles said after a moment, settling back in his chair. “Do me a quick favor and make sure Chewy’s not hanging over the edge?”

Tristan chuckled and stood up, popping his head outside to check that Winston had finished untying the boat and was now sitting with the girls on the deck. “All clear,” he told Miles, returning to his seat next to him.

Miles glanced at him and winked, then pushed the metallic lever forward, making the boat rumble and start to move.

It was slow at first as Miles steered out and away from the dock, but then they slowly picked up speed until they were cruising out on the lake, putting more and more space between them and what was left back at shore.

“I brought you breakfast,” Miles said, breaking Tristan out of his daze of staring across the water.

He blinked at Miles disorderly. “Huh?”

“I brought you breakfast,” Miles repeated with a smile, gesturing with a tilt of his head to where a couple slices of toast wrapped in tinfoil were sitting on the compartment between them. “Haven’t you heard food helps cure a hangover?”

Tristan picked up the toast, holding it dumbly between his hands. He wasn’t used to being taken care of, especially by Miles of all people, but it was so comforting, so heartwarming. “Thank you,” he said quietly, hoping his voice didn’t crack with any stupid emotions.

Miles looked at him unsure, forehead creasing, glancing back and forth between the lake and Tristan. Apparently, Tristan was inept at keeping his feelings at bay today.

It was quiet for a couple moments as Tristan unwrapped the tinfoil and took a couple bites of toast that tasted like heaven landing in his empty stomach.

“Is everything okay? Did something happen?” Miles asked as he pulled back slowly on the lever, the speed of the boat decelerating.

And _great_ , now all Tristan could think about was that conversation with Miles’ dad in the kitchen, the very same conversation he was trying to forget. His face fell as he remembered the whole misfortune. “No, everything’s fine,” Tristan lied, not looking at Miles until he felt the other’s gaze burning into him, and when he looked up, he was sure Miles didn’t believe him.

He watched the dread wash over Miles’ expression. “Oh, no. You didn’t see my dad, did you?”

Tristan sighed. 

“Oh, god. What did he say? How bad was it?” Miles’ eyes were now flicking wildly back and forth between the dash panel and Tristan as he continued slowing the boat down until it came to a lazy stop out in the middle of the lake and he could let go of the gears. 

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Tristan lied again and Miles gave him a very skeptical look.

Miles turned the engine to the boat off completely and turned in his seat to face Tristan, the boat bobbing side to side in the water as it settled.

“Whatever he said about you, Tristan, it’s not true. You _know_ he’s a homophobic piece of shit. Don’t believe any of his crap for a second.” Miles was looking into his eyes, genuine and worried, but not for himself. “Fuck- listen, you’re amazing, Tris.”

And Tristan suddenly realized he had it all wrong. Miles thought Tristan was feeling down on _himself_ because of whatever his dad has said, but no, that wasn’t it at all. 

“No, Miles- I’m not- It was the stuff he said about _you_.” And yeah, his voice definitely cracked that time. “I just- you don’t deserve that. No one does.” Tristan was very aware that he was on the verge of tears now, and he blinked them back madly, not allowing them to fall.

Miles stared at him, wide-eyed and clueless, like he couldn’t possibly understand that Tristan was upset because of the way Miles’ father treated his own son. “I-”

Tristan turned abruptly in his seat to face him. “ _God_ \- I almost lost it on him, Miles. You aren’t- you’re not a horrible person and the shit he said made me so _furious_.” Tristan was feeling that anger start to boil inside him again towards Mr. Hollingsworth, and he clenched his fists tightly at his sides.

Miles shook his head and reached out, hands landing on each of Tristan’s shoulders, grounding him. “No, listen to me. Do not let him get to you.” Miles was looking at him so intensely, talking so seriously, that it was hard for Tristan to relax. “Do not let him upset you, understand? _Christ_ , especially over me.” Miles was breathing a little heavy, visibly aggravated over the situation, and he shook Tristan’s shoulders lightly. “I can’t have this falling on you. He’s a prick, okay? Please, do not let him get to you.”

Tristan just nodded slowly, because what else could he say? It wasn’t right. Nothing about the situation was right. But, he didn’t want Miles to think he just pitied him, because no, it was so much more than that. He wanted to defend and protect him against his nightmare of a father, and make sure he never felt unloved again. But, how could he do that when they weren’t really dating? When all of this was just pretend?

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring this up and make you upset,” Tristan said.

Miles sighed and shook his head. “What? No, don’t apologize. _I’m_ sorry, my dad’s a piece of shit.” And then he pulled Tristan into a hug, making his breath catch, and _that_ Tristan could relax into. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Tristan rested his chin on Miles’ shoulder and slowly brought his hands up to hug him back, silently reassuring him that it was okay, that none of this was Miles’ fault. He breathed Miles in and felt a lot better.

“You know, sometimes I feel bad about dragging you into my stupid family drama… but most of the time I’m just happy you’re here,” Miles confessed and Tristan pulled back to look at him, meeting sparkling green eyes.

He smiled softly. “I’m happy to be here.”

Miles’ expression turned back to teasing and Tristan’s heart faltered at that. “What, better than spring break in Toronto?”

Tristan laughed, shaking his head. “So much better.”

 

After Miles sunk the anchor to keep the boat from moving, they joined the rest of them out on the deck to lounge, crack open Coronas and just tan under the sun, chatting and laughing with each other in the middle of the lake. It was the dream, just like Tristan imagined it would be spending spring break with money. Luxurious.

And with the way Miles was grinning again, sunglasses in place, leaning back on his forearms beside him, Tristan knew that all the problems and conversations were forgotten for now. It was time to enjoy themselves and save the worries for later.

So, they relaxed and had some fun with Frankie, Shay, Lola and Winston. And Tristan couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed this much, smiling till his face practically hurt, especially with Miles looking brighter than the sun next to him.

Miles had his head tilted back, listening to the music Frankie had turned on from the boat’s speakers, tapping the rhythm on Tristan’s leg with his fingertips and talking mindlessly amongst the group.

Tristan’s heart was so full. Miles _had_ to feel it. 

_Don’t be afraid to catch feels._  
_Ride drop top and chase thrills._  
_I know you ain’t afraid to pop pills._  
_Baby, I know you ain’t scared to catch feels._

Miles had wrapped his arm around Tristan’s shoulders and dragged him into his side to kiss his temple and make him laugh more. Tristan reveled in it because this felt real and none of it made sense.

_Feels with me._

 

Of course it got too hot after a while and Winston was the first one jumping off the boat, doing a flip into the lake with a howl and a loud splash. The others leaned over the metal railing and watched him resurface from the water, shaking his hair and throwing his arms out wide, hollering up at them and everyone laughed.

The girls followed after him, jumping together and shrieking as they fell to the water, resurfacing with squeals that it was cold before Winston began splashing them and Frankie dunked him back underwater.

Miles was amused, watching them over the side of the boat, and then he looked to Tristan, raising his eyebrows in question. “Ready?”

Tristan raised his eyebrows right back, because was he ready to take this jump with Miles? Absolutely.

Miles removed his sunglasses and pulled his tank top off, tossing them onto the cushion and Tristan tried- really tried not to gawk at his abs as he scrambled to get his own shirt off, but _damn_ it was hard not to. And then they were climbing over the metal railing and standing on the very edge of the boat, looking down at the blue-green water beneath them.

Tristan wasn’t usually afraid of heights, but suddenly this jump looked a lot higher than it actually was and his heartbeat picked up, because of the jump he was going to have to take of course, not because of the fact that he could see Miles looking at him from his peripheral and it was driving him insane.

“On the count of three?” Miles asked, and Tristan glanced over and saw his hand outstretched, palm up for him to take.

Tristan nodded, grazing his hand over Miles’ palm until their fingers caught and intertwined together, fitting tightly. “On three,” he agreed, looking into Miles’ eyes.

“One… two… three!”

Tristan pushed off the deck and jumped, adrenaline rushing through his veins, Miles right beside him, limbs flailing as they plummeted into the chilly water, holding their breath as they went all the way under before swimming back up to the surface, their hands staying interlocked throughout all of it.

Tristan rose out of the water, feeling unbound and limitless, shaking his wet hair and grinning as Miles popped up right next to him, spewing water from his mouth with a brilliant laugh and letting go of his hand to swim.

“Fuck, it’s cold,” Miles said, and yeah, the water wasn’t that warm, but it still felt refreshing after being out in the hot sun all day. The brunette ran a hair through his hair, making it stick up in tufts that Tristan found funny and kind of adorable.

They were treading water to stay afloat and smiling stupidly at each other, oblivious to Winston still splashing the girls and making all sorts of racket just a few feet away.

Miles’ eyes flickered visibly from Tristan’s eyes to his lips, and then he turned to look over his shoulder, at the others that really weren’t paying them any mind. But, Miles seemed to decide something anyways because when he turned back, he swam forward and grabbed Tristan and pulled him in for a kiss.

Tristan gasped into it, surprised at first despite the circumstances, and then his hands were in Miles’ hair and he was kissing back, soft and sure, wet lips slotting against wet lips and it felt _amazing_.

Their knees kept bumping awkwardly against each other’s as they treaded water, lips refusing to part, until finally Miles brought his hands to the back of Tristan’s thighs and just scooped him up, so his legs were wrapped around his hips instead, making Tristan’s breath catch. And yes, it was the logical thing to do so that they didn’t keep kicking each other, but it also sent a shiver up Tristan’s spine and all these fireworks going off inside his head because now he had two firm hands burning where they held his waist under the cool water and he couldn’t _breathe_.

Miles stopped kissing him for a split second, eyes hooded as he mumbled, “Okay?” and Tristan nodded, unable to find words, so he just reeled him back in to kiss him again.

Miles hummed contentedly, tightening his hands on his waist as he kissed him back with fervor, lips moving in different patterns against his that Tristan melted into.

And they kissed and kissed and kissed.

“Oh my god, are those two ever _not_ making out?”

“I swear to god, they’re animals.”

“They’re definitely that annoying couple that can’t keep their hands off each other in public.”

“Do you even think they realize we’re watching?”

Miles swiped his tongue one last time against Tristan’s lips, making him shiver involuntarily, before he pulled away laughing, throwing a middle finger over his shoulder at their onlookers.

Tristan was blushing and his mind was swirling and _fuck_ , what was that?

He fought to catch his breath, watching Miles let go of him and swim away to splash Winston, who was now making bottom jokes at his best friend with a shit-eating grin.

Tristan sighed as it settled in, heart still hammering loudly in his chest. It was just a show, that’s all it was, and it’d clearly worked on the girls and Winston, so Miles was satisfied.

He wished it didn’t work on _himself_ so much, too.

Tristan calmed down and swam over to join the girls, watching Miles and Winston now push each other around in the water. He laughed and joined in on the fun and everything was lighthearted and okay.

So, why did Tristan’s heart have to feel so heavy?

 

The group swam around for a while, until they’d had enough and climbed back onto the boat, lying out together on the deck to dry off under the warm sun.

Tristan was resting his head on Miles’ chest, the other boy running his fingers through his damp hair, massaging his scalp, occasionally pressing kisses to his crown, and it was _so_ soothing.

He was exhausted, and Miles looked exhausted, so this was perfect, just relaxing with each other and enjoying all the touches, even if it was just for show. Tristan didn’t mind, especially right now. He could almost fall asleep to the sound of the lake and Miles’ heartbeat, it was _that_ comforting. He felt like he belonged here.

Tristan glanced up at the brunette, who was staring at the sky, lost in thought, and he took it all in, this special moment, this feeling in his chest, this remarkable boy that was touching him so gently, so carefully that it made Tristan’s heart squeeze. 

“What are you thinking?” he asked softly, waiting for those emerald eyes to shift to him, and when they did, he smiled, and Miles smiled back.

“I’m thinking about how free I felt jumping off the boat with you… and how I wish I could feel like that all the time.” 

It wasn’t what Tristan had been expecting, visibly taken aback by his response because this felt too raw and too honest, and was giving him useless hope that he didn’t know what to do with, without self-destructing. But, his stomach was fluttering uncontrollably, and he was warm- _so_ warm. 

He wanted to give Miles that feeling for the rest of his life.

“Maybe you can,” Tristan whispered and Miles’ smile turned soft, lifting his head to press a knowing kiss to his forehead before settling back down.

Tristan was drowning dangerously in his feelings for Miles, maybe beyond saving, and if he wasn’t careful, he was going to sink faster than the boat’s anchor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Talk Triles to me](http://startingatthe-end.tumblr.com)


	5. Your Eyes Are The Size Of The Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's for you, Zach :p
> 
> Huge thanks to Rye Bread for proofing this when he was drunk. All mistakes you can blame him (just kidding, always blame me)! Enjoy!!

“Fuck- fuck, ow!” Tristan flinched away from where Miles had just pressed his fingers delicately into the bare skin of his back- his very, very sunburnt back. “I said don’t touch it!”

Miles threw his head back and laughed, Tristan watching him disgruntled from his reflection in the bathroom mirror they were standing in front of, examining Tristan’s newly fried skin. He groaned and looked up at the ceiling.

“That’s what you get for falling asleep on your stomach on the boat yesterday,” Miles teased before poking his bright red skin again.

Tristan recoiled and turned around to push Miles away from him, burning, but not in the good way this time. “You’re such an asshole,” he said, but he was grinning stupidly at the brunette anyways.

“ _I’m_ an asshole?” Miles asked, eyebrows raised and toothy smile in place, taking a step back towards Tristan. “It’s not my fault you’re so damn pale and burn easily.”

Tristan laughed and shook his head. “You could have, I don’t know, woken me up? Or told me to put on sunscreen? Or I don’t know, covered my back with a shirt?”

Miles huffed in amusement and took another small step forward into Tristan’s space. “Yeah, but then I wouldn’t have gotten to look at so much skin,” Miles said lowly, but still full of teasing.

And yeah, _what?_ No. Tristan looked at him incredulously, feeling his face begin to flush, and he quickly brushed past Miles and headed out of the bathroom. How could he just say things like that? Tristan grabbed his shirt off the bed and pulled it back on, wincing as it brushed over the skin of his shoulder blades. “You’re ridiculous,” he said.

Miles followed him out of the bathroom and leaned against the wall outside, watching him curiously with a smile across his face. “Yeah, but aren’t you glad we became friends?”

Tristan froze and looked up from where he was searching the bed for his tossed sunglasses. He met those vivid green eyes and _ouch_ , despite not being surprised, the friend zone still hurt. He snorted, looking away again to hide his disappointment. “Friends? I wouldn’t call us that.”

“Okay, then what would you call us?”

Tristan picked up his sunglasses from where they were hiding under a fold in the duvet and he used the time it took to clean the lenses with his shirt and tuck them so they rested in his hair to think. “Fake boyfriends… for the rest of spring break. Then we can go back to living across the hall from each other and pretending the other doesn’t exist.” The words ached coming out of Tristan’s own mouth, but wasn’t that reality? 

Miles scoffed dryly and Tristan looked at him, raising his eyebrows and finding the brunette’s smile gone now. “Is that what you did? Pretended I didn’t exist?” Miles sounded almost offended or upset, but that couldn’t be right. Why did he care?

But, gosh, _no_ , that’s not what Tristan did, but it’s how Miles acted. He never said more than two words to him before until he needed something from him, until he’d found a way to use him, and Tristan wasn’t holding that against him, of course not. He’d known it all along that this was what was happening and Tristan wasn’t going to regret his decision. He’d take getting used for a week if he got to get to know the incredible boy standing before him.

Tristan shook his head, trying to get his thoughts back on track. “I’m just saying that I’m doing you a favor. That’s all it is. You don’t have to change anything at university just because we acted close for a week.” It sounded sad and Tristan hated it. He didn’t even want to think about this week ending and what would happen after. 

It would be a whole lot of heartbreak, he was sure.

“Okay… so, what? You want to go back to only saying hi to each other when we pass in the hallway or by the showers?”

Tristan stared at his feet and shrugged.

Miles laughed, almost bitterly. “Okay, well, what if I _don’t_ want to do that?” 

Tristan looked up and Miles raised his eyebrows pointedly at him.

“Look, I know the kissing and the touching- and the pretending to be dating will obviously stop… but we can still be friends, right?” Miles looked at him, green eyes bright and hopeful and Tristan’s heart squeezed in his chest. Miles’ lips turned into a small smirk. “I know you enjoy my company, at least a little bit, to want to be friends after all of this.”

Those were the key words though, weren’t they? After all of this. This was temporary, a week of Tristan’s hopes and dreams and wants, all tucked away in the brunette standing before him, all hidden behind that charming smile that Tristan had gotten a short-lived glimpse of over spring break. But, that’s all it was- a fleeting glimpse that come Monday when classes resumed would just be his favorite heart wrenching memory.

“I want to be friends with you after this,” Miles repeated softly.

But, Tristan wasn’t selfless enough to not take what he could get. 

It would hurt, it would hurt like fucking hell, but maybe Tristan’s heart would heal and they _could_ be friends, and they could one day laugh together over the memory of this spring break and their pretend relationship. Then, at least he’d still have Miles Hollingsworth in his life, this boy that was slowly changing a deeply ingrained part of him that Tristan couldn’t even begin to understand quite, yet. But, something inside him was going to be different when he came out of this. That he was sure of.

He would never be unscathed.

Tristan opened his mouth, trying to find words that wouldn’t give away what he was feeling. He closed his mouth, furrowed his eyebrows lightly together, opening it again. “I want to be friends with you, too.”

Miles smiled, lips parting in something of relief that confused Tristan, and then he was stepping forward and Tristan’s heart started to pound. “Good,” he said, before hugging Tristan into his arms, warm and welcome and safe, fingers delicate over the cloth of the t-shirt on his sunburnt back.

Tristan clung to him a little tightly, a little desperately, craving the warm burn igniting through his chest. He cleared his throat when he realized what he was doing; shaking himself out of it and taking a step back, taking a deep breath. “Good,” Tristan nodded.

Miles flashed him that toothy smile one more time before turning towards the dresser to pluck his Ray-Bans up that were resting on the top and heading for the door leading out of their bedroom. “Now there’s one more person on the floor I can steal socks from when I forget to do my laundry.”

Tristan stood still for a moment, letting the words sink in before he scoffed and rolled his eyes fondly, following Miles out of the room, lightly pushing him from behind and causing his favorite laugh to ring out in the air. 

It sounded like heaven.

 

They ended up out by the pool with everyone minus the Hollingsworth’s parents, another extremely hot and sunny day that had Tristan’s shirt sticking uncomfortably to his back within minutes of walking out of the lake house and being under the heat.

Frankie and Shay were reading magazines, sipping frozen drinks on the adjacent lounge chairs. Lola and Winston were giggling and splashing each other in the pool. Even Hunter was outside, on his laptop in the shade by the patio.

Tristan sat on a lounge chair and reached to pull his shirt over his head, making a face as it scraped uncomfortably across his burnt skin. He dropped it to the ground and then turned his attention to Miles who was standing in front of his chair and pulling his tank top off rather slowly, putting on a show, exposing inch by inch of skin that Tristan reveled in. _Fuck._

Miles met his stare and grinned before unceremoniously throwing his removed shirt at him, hitting Tristan square in the face, the tank top falling into his lap. Tristan blinked out of it and turned his gaze from Miles’ abs to his amused eyes, and Tristan scowled. 

Miles laughed as he walked towards him, leaning over to put a hand on his cheek, to press a soft kiss to his lips.

Tristan’s heart soared.

Their eyes met as they pulled back and Miles smiled gently and brushed his thumb across Tristan’s jaw, making Tristan shiver in its wake. “Lay on your stomach,” he whispered and Tristan’s mind froze.

“Er- What?”

Miles straightened, brushing his thumb once more across Tristan’s cheek before letting go and stepping back, eyebrows raised. “Turn over,” he said.

Tristan’s mouth dropped open kind of dumbly, and he fought to choke out some words. “What?” he managed incredulously. “ _Why_?”

His mind was flooding with all the reasons as to why Miles might want him laying on his stomach, all of them good, none of them appropriate with the company around.

Miles chuckled and turned around to grab the tube of sunscreen that was sitting on the table next to Frankie, then faced Tristan again and waved it at him. “I’m gonna take care of you so you don’t end up with third degree burns.”

_Too late._ Tristan sighed and felt his face flush, mouth curling up involuntarily into a shy smile. “About time,” he mumbled, having to look away from emerald eyes as he turned onto his stomach. He could feel his heart beating through his chest.

Miles climbed over him then, straddling the back of his waist and Tristan’s eyes went wide where thankfully no one could see them, inhaling in surprise, stomach in knots. _What the fuck was happening?_

Miles chuckled, leaning over his back and shifting onto his knees, Tristan sensing his nose by his ear and making his skin tingle, and then he pressed a loud kiss on his cheek before sitting back up and settling back on Tristan’s waist. “You’re so hot,” he proclaimed and Tristan swallowed harshly, his cheek on fire.

Miles was a heavy, comforting weight on top of him. Tristan never wanted it to leave.

Then, he heard the lid of the sunscreen pop open and felt it cold as Miles squirted it onto his back, and suddenly the sense of the pain to come from applying sunscreen to burnt skin overrode every other feeling.

“Miles- don’t- be gentle,” Tristan panicked underneath him, skin stinging when Miles hadn’t even touched him, yet.

Miles laughed and that did nothing to placate Tristan’s worries for what he was about to face.

“Relax, babe. I’ve got you.”

Tristan exhaled at that and reluctantly unwound to Miles’ voice, tension seeping out of his shoulder blades as he all but melted into the lounge chair under Miles. Then, Miles was rubbing sunscreen into his skin ever so gently, hands soft and fingers soothing against the tender skin of his back, causing Tristan’s eyes to almost flutter close.

And of course it still stung, but not as horribly as Tristan imagined.

“See, was that so bad?” Miles teased him, rubbing in the remnants of white sunscreen before bending down and kissing the nape of his neck.

“Mm… yes,” Tristan deadpanned once he’d found his voice, feeling the heat on his neck and in his throat.

“Unbelievable.” Miles flicked his shoulder blade and climbed off of him, Tristan sucking in a sharp breath at the sting of the small blow.

“Asshole.” He turned back over, adjusting the head of the lounge chair so he was in more of a sitting position.

Miles met his gaze and waggled his eyebrows, plopping down in the chair next to him. “You love me,” he said confidently.

_God_ , Tristan wished he were wrong.

Tristan’s expression softened involuntarily and he offered a lenient smile. “You’re not wrong,” he replied faintly after a moment.

Miles looked at him, green eyes unreadable, before eventually reaching over and taking his hand, letting their palms touch and fingers lace in the space between their chairs. He squeezed Tristan’s hand.

Tristan closed his eyes and memorized the feeling.

 

A few hours later found Miles running off the edge and doing a cannonball into the pool, sending splashes of water directly on Shay and Lola, who squealed in protest on the sidelines, as well as Tristan who would’ve reacted the same way if it wasn’t for the toothy smile Miles was giving him as he resurfaced.

“Tristan, get your ass in the pool!” Miles called from where he was treading water, ever so gracefully, and Tristan laughed.

“Hurry up,” Winston complained, also from the pool, Tristan rolling his eyes as he stood up from the lounge chair.

“What- eager to get your ass beat in a chicken fight?” Miles pestered Chewy, who dunked him unceremoniously underwater.

Miles came up pretending to choke on chlorine, and Tristan laughed, toes curling over the bricks at the edge of the pool.

Miles looked up at him and grinned, throwing out his arms. “Baby, get in here so I can kiss you.”

Tristan swallowed. _Wow_ , he didn’t need any more convincing.

“Jesus,” Winston grumbled.

Frankie laughed, swimming over to splash Winston.

Tristan smiled and jumped in.

The rush of water was cool and inviting, a welcome relief from the burning sun and his burning skin. When he swam to the surface, two hands caught onto his hips, bringing back the fire.

He was met with green eyes- what was quickly becoming his favorite sight- water dripping down his face.

Miles tilted his head, smiling earnestly with his eyes crinkling at the corners, and pulled him forward to slot their lips together, soft and wet, as promised.

Tristan melted into it, hands coming up to wrap a little desperately around Miles’ neck, lips molding together, smooth and sweet and sending a swarm of heat through Tristan’s gut.

Miles squeezed Tristan’s hips, causing a jolt up his spine, and Tristan clung tighter to him, letting Miles kiss the life out of him, take his breath away, and leave him a gasping mess when they finally separated, floating back in the pool with Miles’ arm securing around his waist to keep him close. His heart hurt so good. He never wanted this moment to end.

When he finally looked away from Miles’ smoldering eyes, he realized Winston already had Frankie on his shoulders, waiting impatiently for them and struggling to stay on his feet, an amusing sight.

“Let’s go,” Frankie said, clapping her hands together and Tristan turned back to look at Miles.

“Top or bottom?” Miles asked with a smirk and a raise of his eyebrows, and Winston groaned.

Tristan splashed him right in the face, causing Miles to reel back laughing. _This boy._ He pulled Tristan in by the waist to press another kiss to his lips.

“You can get on my shoulders,” Miles mumbled against Tristan’s mouth, kissing him again before pulling back and going underwater, Tristan barely having the chance to open his eyes let alone comprehend his words, his heart still racing.

He climbed onto Miles’ shoulders, the other boy hooking his arms around his calves and standing, lifting Tristan right out of the water. It was wobbly at first, Tristan sinking his fingers into Miles’ hair for something to hold onto so he didn’t end up back in the water, as Miles got ahold of his footing on the pool floor.

“Please don’t pull my hair,” Miles requested once he’d caught his balance and Tristan laughed, loosening his hold.

“I’ve never heard you say that one before,” he teased, payback for Miles’ comment before, and Winston groaned again, smacking his face with his hand, Miles laughing heartily then.

“My money’s on Miles and Tristan,” Shay spoke up from where she had moved to the poolside to watch the fight, and that was what Tristan liked to hear.

“No, my girl Frankie’s got this,” Lola disagreed, sitting beside her with her feet dangling off the edge and into the pool water.

“Hunter?” Shay called for his input, glancing over her shoulder to where he was still sitting in the shade on the patio, presumably gaming on his laptop.

“Huh?” He looked up blankly, eyebrows furrowing together as he looked around the pool, before he quickly realized what was being asked of him. “Oh, Miles and Tristan. Definitely Miles and Tristan.” He turned back to his laptop disinterested.

Music to Tristan’s ears.

“Can we please hurry this up before I drop her?” Winston huffed, clearly still struggling to stay standing, and Miles laughed again, shaking underneath Tristan. 

Tristan grinned. Such easy competition.

“Okay-” Shay conceded, “Ready, set, go!”

Miles instantly carried him forward to meet Frankie and Winston in the middle of the pool, splashing water vigorously as he moved, Tristan raising his arms to try and fight them off.

“You got this, babe,” Miles encouraged below him as Tristan reached out to push Frankie, arms latching onto arms and struggling back and forth, both of them laughing at how ridiculous the whole thing was.

The fight didn’t last long at all apparently, barely over a minute until Winston stumbled backwards after a good shove from Tristan resulting in a shift of weight from Frankie. He seemed to slip on the pool floor and the two of them went tumbling into the water, Frankie knocked off his shoulders during the fall, both going under unceremoniously.

Tristan cheered, raising his fists victoriously on Miles’ shoulders, and Miles laughed, tilting his head to try and look up at him. Tristan peered down, smiled warmly and patted his cheeks, barely aware of Frankie and Winston who were now arguing over whose fault their loss was.

Miles smiled cheekily before flipping Tristan’s legs backwards off his shoulders, sending him falling into the water with a yelp and a loud splash, Tristan resurfacing with mock offense, moving to dunk Miles underwater in retaliation.

Miles didn’t really fight back, letting him dunk him underwater playfully, coming back up for air before moving in to kiss Tristan with a wide grin, lips on lips, hands on hips, laughing into each other’s mouths.

Miles pushed him backwards in the water with their lips connected, back until Tristan bumped into the far edge and they were making out against the wall of the pool.

Tristan felt on cloud nine.

Winning had never tasted so good.

 

Dinner was outside on the patio as usual, everyone seated at the table, Mr. Hollingsworth present at the head this time around, leaving the atmosphere particularly tense and Tristan a little uncomfortable as they dished out plates of food.

Luckily, Frankie was doing a pretty good job of talking her head off to keep the table from falling into any awkward silences after such a fun day, going into great detail of how they spent hours by the pool, holding the attention of the girls and Mrs. Hollingsworth, as well as Winston.

“I mean if Winston hadn’t slipped we totally could have beaten Miles and Tristan,” she recounted their previous chicken fight, waving her fork around matter-of-factly. “Right?”

“Uh- Dad, can you pass the potatoes?” Miles interrupted, clearly not paying any attention or surely he would have ridiculed his little sister.

“Hey! It wasn’t my fault. You’re the one that fell off _my_ shoulders,” Winston argued.

Mr. Hollingsworth made no move for the bowl of potatoes sitting in front of him.

Miles stared blankly at him and then at the bowl out of reach.

“Because you slipped! How was I supposed to hang on when you were going under water?”

“Dad- the potatoes?”

Mr. Hollingsworth turned his head to glare silently at Miles.

“I don’t know, but it’s not like you were doing anything to knock Tristan off Miles’ shoulders.” Winston had turned in his seat to face Frankie, completely engrossed in the details from the pool and proving that their loss hadn’t been entirely his fault, when it most definitely was.

Miles scowled right back at his father, chin jutting out now, Tristan watching the rough exchange, chewing a mouthful of food. His stomach was sinking nervously.

Frankie scoffed loudly. “It’s not _my_ fault. Tristan was holding on so tightly to Miles he barely even wobbled when I pushed him. Plus Miles is a lot stronger than you.”

Mr. Hollingsworth picked up the bowl of potatoes and set it down rather harshly in front of Miles, making the table shake.

Something in Miles seemed to snap at that. He threw his fork down on his plate with a clatter and pushed his chair back from the table slightly, turning to face his father more fully and sneering. “I’m sorry is there a problem?”

Frankie and Winston shut up immediately at Miles’ words, everyone turning wide-eyed to look between Miles and his father, fearful, yet knowing exactly what was about to happen. Hadn’t the whole week been leading up to this?

Tristan set down his fork and swallowed dryly.

“I don’t know, Miles,” his father said, calm and collected, and Tristan squirmed in his chair. “Is there?”

“I don’t know, Dad. You’re the one acting like a dick,” Miles shot back, raising his eyebrows pointedly and then shrugging. “But, I guess that’s not really anything new, right?”

Mr. Hollingsworth hummed, seeming visibly unaffected or surprised by Miles’ remark. Tristan’s stomach churned. “I’m sorry, but it’s a little hard to act polite when my spoiled rotten son is hell bent on pissing on this family.”

Tristan bit down hard on his lip.

Miles laughed humorlessly, looking across the table at his siblings that were now staring down at their plates, before returning his hard gaze to his father. “Is it working?” he asked smugly.

“Miles,” Mrs. Hollingsworth warned across the table, but her husband’s façade broke before she could utter anything else to keep any sense of peace at the dinner table.

“Do you think this is funny?! Bringing some boy here? To what- flaunt around and pretend you’re not the useless, selfish, unruly son I never asked for?!” Mr. Hollingsworth growled, slamming his fist down on the table, making Frankie gasp and the dishes jump. Tristan felt sick. 

“I mean really, don’t you think it’s finally time to grow up, Miles? Stop acting like such a defiant child that needs to act out every time he doesn’t get his way?” Mr. Hollingsworth continued, shaking his head, voice loud and ugly and reverberating painfully in Tristan’s ears. 

“It’s embarrassing, really- you coming here with some boyfriend when everyone at this table knows you’ll never love anyone, but yourself!” He practically yelled, Tristan flinching at the words and bringing his hand to Miles’ thigh underneath the table, a silent reminder that he was here, that he wasn’t alone. “Admit it, Miles. This is a game for you. Bringing your boyfriend here just to drive another wedge between our family, just so the attention’s on you for another pitiful second. I’m done putting up with it!” He slammed his fist down on the table again.

Miles’ expression was unclear, table stunned quiet for a moment as the words settled, as Mr. Hollingsworth caught his breath. Then Miles found his voice and spit out two thick words, eyes burning. “Fuck. You.”

Mr. Hollingsworth threw his head back and laughed bitterly. “Oh, perfect!”

Tristan couldn’t bear another second. He felt his control snapping string by string inside him, rage bubbling up explosively, no longer afraid to put this dreadful man in his place. _Leave Miles alone._

He needed to do this. If not for Miles, then for himself. No one deserved to listen to this crap.

“You’re wrong,” Tristan said and every head around the table turned to him, but his stare was zeroed in on Mr. Hollingsworth’s, eyes blazing, everything else out of focus. “You’re so wrong and the only thing that’s more pathetic than your whole outburst is your obvious lack of a will to understand your own son.”

Miles’ hand was suddenly brushing against Tristan’s under the table, still resting on the brunette’s thigh, and whether that was a plead for him to stop or encouragement for him to continue, Tristan didn’t care.

He kept going.

“It’s honestly _disgusting_ how the fact that Miles has a boyfriend makes you question his actions and character like the flip of a switch, pretending he isn’t the same person just because he’s dating a boy. What the _hell_ gives you the right to perpetuate these horrible ideas about your own son based on who he loves? Who do you think you are acting like Miles should only be here to please you? Look around the table! You’re the only one with a problem here and the only one who needs a change of shitty attitude.”

“Tris,” Miles mumbled, so softly, barely audible over Tristan’s blood boiling. Tristan didn’t care.

“Miles isn’t the problem. _God_ , he is not the problem. If you only took the time you spent looking for all his faults actually listening to what he has to say, you’d realize that. He’s so genuine and has so much to offer and it’s such a damn shame you refuse to acknowledge the son you have-” Tristan took a deep breath and Miles squeezed his hand under the table. He was fuming and now he was emotional, too. “Because he’s incredible- so incredible and you should feel lucky to have someone like him in your life. Because I know I am.”

It fell quiet and Mr. Hollingsworth was frowning at him, and when Tristan tore his gaze away and looked around the table he was met with several shocked faces. Tristan took another deep breath to try and calm himself, heart still hammering loudly in his chest. He looked back to Mr. Hollingsworth and pushed back his chair from the table.

“You know, Miles has a hell of a lot more love to give than you ever will. And I guess when it comes down to the kind of person you are, that’s all that really matters.” Tristan stood up, pulling his hand out from under Miles’ cold fingers, muttering an ‘excuse me’ to the rest of the table before leaving, walking inside the house and sliding the glass door shut tightly behind him. He couldn’t take it. He couldn’t breathe.

He gasped for air leaning over the countertop in the kitchen, influx of oxygen helping to relieve the tightness in his chest, the growing lump in his throat, the unsettling feeling in his stomach.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt that kind of hatred.

Once Tristan had collected himself, he ended up out on the front porch, distancing himself as far from that dinner table as possible, sitting in one of the white rocking chairs and looking out past the front lawn, past the tall gate that was trapping him inside, looking out to the road and the quiet unsuspecting rich neighborhood, the moon hanging bright in the distance like an anchor. He breathed.

Miles found him not ten minutes later, opening the front door and shutting it behind him, coming to sit quietly in the rocking chair beside him, following his gaze out to the horizon.

They rocked wordlessly back and forth for a couple moments together, chairs creaking, thinking beside each other, until Tristan couldn’t take the silence anymore, no matter how comforting it was. He needed to say something.

“I’m sorry.”

Miles turned to look at him, surprise and confusion littering his expression, and Tristan turned to meet those honest green eyes that always proved to help settle him. “For what?” Miles asked, eyebrows knitting together.

Tristan sighed exasperatedly, raising his eyebrows wordlessly at the brunette. He knew what for.

“Don’t be.” Miles shook his head, eyes burning. “Don’t be sorry.”

Tristan was going to argue, but something about the way Miles was looking at him made him stop. His heart throbbed longingly, longing to be able to take the pain away that sat masked behind that gaze. He’d do anything.

Miles looked back to the street, kicking his feet quietly against the wooden floorboards of the porch. “No one’s ever stood up for me like that,” he said softly and Tristan’s heart broke.

“What do you mean?” he asked weakly, and sad green eyes returned to his. He was suddenly afraid to hear the answer.

“I just mean, there’s not a lot of people out there who believe the things you said, let alone would voice them in my defense.”

Tristan’s mouth parted at the confession, but he couldn’t find the right words to say despite the buzz of sorrow in his brain, especially with his heart hurting so badly in his chest. He couldn’t begin to fathom why anyone wouldn’t stand up for this boy, why anyone wouldn’t want to protect him. Tristan hadn’t even known him a whole week, yet he felt as though he would lay down his life if it meant Miles wouldn’t feel an ounce of pain again, as dramatic as that may be. The bond they’d formed meant that much to him.

“So, thank you,” Miles said, looking into his soul, Tristan feeling it deep in his chest. “Thank you for standing up for me.”

He wanted to tell him not to thank him, that it’s what he deserved, that Tristan had wanted to, that he’d make the same decision over and over and over again. He opted for something better. “Anytime.”

Miles’ mouth curved up into a warm smile and Tristan helplessly mirrored it.

They fell into silence, warm comforting silence, rocking back and forth together, staring out at the moon in the distance and listening to the night. It was such a different view when you couldn’t see the lake. Such a different atmosphere when it was just the two of them together.

“Miles?” Tristan asked, looking back towards him.

“Hm?”

Tristan drank in Miles’ profile, his ruffled brown hair that Tristan longed to run his fingers through, his soft cheek that was the faintest pink from the glow of the porch light, his eyelashes that painted light shadows on his skin, the curve of his lips that Tristan ached to kiss. And beyond all that, there was such a sweet boy with such a big heart.

“Don’t believe for a second that you are any of those things your father said you are.” Tristan shook his head. “You’re not.”

Miles turned to look at Tristan, green on blue, eyes so big, Tristan’s heart beating strong. “I won’t,” he whispered in the space between them, and for some reason it felt like a crushing lie.

How could Miles look so lost when Tristan felt so found.

“Do you want to listen to some music?” Miles asked after a long moment of just looking at each other, coexisting next to each other.

Tristan nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

Maybe music would make them feel better.

Miles smiled.

He rummaged for his phone in his pocket, pulling it out and struggling to untangle his earphones before handing one bud to Tristan to stick in his ear. 

He scrolled through a long list, searching for a song and then pressed play.

They leaned back and listened.

_No, I don't understand_  
_How I held it together_  
_Before I could hold your hand_  
_And I can't, I can't recall_  
_If I knew who I was before_  
_You knew me flaws and all_

_Whoa, feels like a lifetime ago oh,_  
_And do you know_

_Who did I used to be?_  
_How was there ever me without you?_  
_Don't want to ever be without you_  
_Without you, me without you_

_Baby I can't believe_  
_I ever lived or breathed without you_  
_Don't let me ever be without you_  
_Without you, me without you._

Tristan reached for Miles’ hand with his heart in his throat and Miles took it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Come yell at me to update!](http://smileshollingsworth.tumblr.com/ask)


	6. They Warned Me Bout Your Type

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday, Katie!! I hope you had an amazing day and enjoy your update. Everyone go send @degrassibuzz on tumblr some birthday wishes!

Tristan woke up to soft breathing against his shoulder, the grip of a hand curling lightly around his bicep, a sleeping boy nuzzling into his neck. 

He blinked awake, turning his head slowly to the body laying beside him, nose finding a warm head of disheveled brown hair, a face resting contently in the dip of his collarbone just inches below his.

Not just any face- Miles’ face, sleeping soundly against him, breathing against his skin, making Tristan warm.

He smiled to himself at the sight, biting his lip and reaching out ever so slowly to trail his fingers delicately through Miles’ hair, brushing it back from his forehead, careful not to disturb him.

Tristan remembered how they spent last night on the front porch together. They’d sat together for hours, listening to music and talking quietly to each other, hands pressed together, forgetting about the mess they’d left behind at the dinner table, forgetting about everything else besides the two of them. It’d been soft and honest and perfect and made Tristan feel so many things that he wasn’t so sure about.

But, there was one thing Tristan _was_ sure of that night.

He was sure he fell in love. 

He fell in love on that porch; fell in love to the warmth of Miles’ voice and the touch of his hand. He fell in love with those green eyes and that bright laugh, and the way Tristan couldn’t keep the smile off his face, the way his heart pounded in his chest. He fell in love thinking about how he never wanted to walk this earth without Miles in his life. He fell in love with the realization that he was in love, and maybe he couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment it’d happened, maybe it’d been this slow process since the second Miles had fallen into his lap less than a week ago. But, here he was-- in love.

It should have been scary. It should have sent Tristan running in the complete opposite direction. Because hadn’t he promised himself he wasn’t going to let this happen? Hadn’t he sworn to keep his feelings out of this and not put himself in this position that would only end in tears and heartbreak?

Apparently Tristan had no sense of self-preservation.

And he didn’t fucking care.

He didn’t care because he was in love, so fucking in love and it was a beautiful feeling, the boy clinging to his arm and snuggling against his chest making his head swim. It left Tristan’s heart warm and bursting and his stomach tumbling and face hurting from smiling so much. He was in love and _fuck_ , it was incredible.

He wanted nothing more than for it to last.

He knew it wouldn’t.

Tristan wasn’t even sure how someone could fall in love in just six days, how that was even physically or emotionally possible, how something inside his heart could change so quickly because of one special person, but it had, and there was no better feeling. Six days was all it took, and Tristan nearly punched himself in the face at the thought, because if that wasn’t some sappy bullshit straight out of a Nicholas Sparks novel, than what was? But, it was true. He was in love.

He was lovesick and overemotional and screaming on the inside over the brunette sleeping beside him.

He wished it didn’t have to end, that he could come out of this with something of himself still in tact.

But, he knew deep in his throbbing heart that wasn’t going to be possible. Love was such a treacherous thing, yet still Tristan welcomed it.

His phone vibrating on the bedside table made his thumb freeze where it was tracing the curve of Miles’ eyebrow, tearing his attention away unwillingly from the sleeping brunette.

He saw the contact name on the screen before he even reached for his phone and he immediately dreaded reading whatever text message he’d just received.

It’s not that he didn’t enjoy keeping in touch with his best friend, because obviously under any other circumstances he’d be quick to text her back, especially after ditching her for spring break. It’s just that he didn’t feel like being lectured on how stupid and self-destructive he was being when he already _knew_.

He wasn’t going to let anyone ruin this. He only had a few days left, a limited amount of time before he’d have to leave the lake house and return to reality, to his dorm room and classes that sounded all too dreadful right now, to no longer pretending he was Miles’ boyfriend, which was just about the worst of it all.

Tristan reached towards the nightstand, careful not to shuffle the sleeping boy against him. He picked up his phone, chewing on his bottom lip for a second, before holding down the power button and sliding his thumb across the screen to shut his phone off, placing it back face down on the beside table. 

He’d apologize profusely to Zoë come Sunday when he returned to university in pieces and would need his best friend to help repair him. But, right now he was just going to enjoy what time he had left with Miles, with feeling like his heart was going to explode from green eyes and the touch of chapped lips.

Miles stirred beside him, turning his head further into Tristan’s shoulder and reaching a hand up to rub at his eyes, cracking one eye open barely, disoriented and still coming out of sleep, looking _so cute_.

He stretched his legs under the sheets, squinting both eyes open now and looking up at Tristan, blinking before his lips curved into a smile, a soft lazy smile. Tristan ached to kiss him.

“Good morning,” Miles said, voice groggy from sleep, shifting his head off of Tristan to lie back on his pillow, loosening his hand from where it’d been holding Tristan’s arm to rest in the sheets between them.

Tristan smiled and turned over onto his side, facing dark green eyes and the perfect nose. “Good morning.”

Miles reached out and traced Tristan’s smile gently with the tip of his finger. Tristan’s breath hitched at the touch.

They stared at each other silently for a moment; Miles’ gaze heavy and deep and Tristan had stopped breathing, feeling like he was floating.

“Me and you today,” Miles whispered.

“Hm?” Tristan’s heart was pounding.

“Just me and you today,” Miles repeated, bringing his hand back to rest under his cheek, smile growing a little wider, a little sweeter.

Tristan stared at him, trying to find his voice, trying to talk himself down from believing there was any possible way Miles could reciprocate his feelings, that maybe this wasn’t all one-sided, like maybe Tristan had a chance.

He nodded and Miles reached out to punch his arm playfully, and all hope drained from Tristan.

“No family bullshit today. Just you and me, come on.” Miles grinned before rolling out of bed, standing and heading towards the bathroom to get ready, leaving Tristan a mess in the sheets.

Not the _right_ kind of mess.

Tristan groaned and turned onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillow, kicking his feet.

_You and me._

 

Miles started running when he reached the grass of the backyard, ignoring Frankie yelling from the pool asking where the hell they were going. Apparently he wasn’t kidding when he’d said they weren’t hanging out with his family today and that made Tristan beam.

Miles was running towards the lake, so of course Tristan followed.

“Why are we running?” Tristan called, panting under the hot sun as he jogged to catch up.

Miles looked over his shoulder with a toothy grin and laughed, making Tristan nearly trip over a rock as they reached the shoreline. He stumbled, catching his balance before he fell and continued after the brunette, shaking his head.

Miles stopped abruptly when he hopped onto the wooden dock, turning to face Tristan, smile unwavering, face flushed as he caught his breath. Tristan nearly ran right into his bare chest, reeling back on the balls of his feet before they collided and sent both of them tumbling into the shallow water, Miles grabbing his wrist to steady him.

“Because if we run nobody can catch us,” Miles said seriously after a moment, tilting his head and raising his eyebrows, like that would answer all of Tristan’s questions.

_Maybe it did._

Tristan looked away from green eyes, because if he didn’t he might get far too lost in them, or think far too hard about them, and he was already burning.

Miles sniffed and let go of his wrist, Tristan’s arm dropping weakly back to his side.

“Ready to go for a swim?” Miles asked and Tristan looked back from the lake to him and smiled.

“Let’s do it.”

“Race you to the end of the dock?”

He didn’t give Tristan a chance to respond before he took off down the pier, running for the water and Tristan laughed and chased after him even though he knew he was going to lose.

“You cheated!” Tristan called, hearing Miles’ laugh right before the brunette jumped off the end of the dock, Tristan following right behind him off the last wooden plank making up the pier.

He felt that rush in his gut- that thrill of falling as Tristan held his breath, letting the lake catch him and pull him underwater, pull him right behind Miles. 

The water was even cooler today, which made no sense because it was nevertheless scorching hot out, but it still felt refreshing despite the chill, making Tristan focus, making him think more clearly. This was a good thing.

He swam to the surface, popping up right after Miles and wiping water from his eyelashes, meeting the brunette’s beaming face that was right in front of his, and suddenly it didn’t matter how cold the water was, he wasn’t thinking clearly anymore when all he wanted to do was pull that messy brown head of hair in and kiss him.

“You’re a slow runner,” Miles teased and Tristan splashed him, making him break out in more laughter that made Tristan’s heart soar. 

He teased him right back.

They were being stupid and immature and laughing over the dumbest things such as how Miles most definitely cheated in the race down the dock, yet Tristan loved every second of it. This was how he wanted it to be, soft and playful and full of laughter, collecting moments he would remember for the rest of his life.

And no, of course the trip wasn’t always like this. It couldn’t always be the two of them laughing and fooling around when just last night Tristan was made all too aware of how much Miles was hurting on the inside. But, if just for a couple moments he could make him forget about that, make him smile and earnestly happy, then Tristan thought they’d be okay- that the two of them smiling together had to count for at least something.

Miles nudged him with his feet underwater and Tristan grinned at him, kicking him back, any excuse for their skin to touch.

“You know what my favorite thing about you is?” Miles asked, seemingly jokes-aside, the two treading water just a short foot away from each other.

Tristan smiled softly and tilted his head, holding his breath. “What?”

Miles looked at him for a long moment, thinking and thinking, and then he smirked and said, “That you’re a slow runner.”

Tristan rolled his eyes and splashed him again.

And the banter and splashing continued until Miles got ahold of both of Tristan’s hands so he couldn’t splash him anymore, bringing them subtly closer together in the water by doing so. They were grinning stupidly at each other and their laughter was slowly trailing off and their gazes were heavy and Tristan thought they might kiss.

Instead, Miles laughed and pushed him underwater.

 

“Are you sure you know how to drive this thing?” Tristan asked hesitantly from where he was now standing back on the dock, looking over Miles who was sitting on a jet ski floating in the water and powering it on.

“Yes,” Miles drawled as the motor thrummed to life underneath him, glancing over his shoulder up at Tristan and smirking, like he knew exactly what he was doing. He raised his eyebrows questionably. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Yes.” Of course he did. That was the scariest part.

“Come on. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

Tristan sighed and climbed onto the back of the jet ski, because at this point, _why the fuck not?_ It immediately started wobbling back and forth in the water, Tristan grabbing onto Miles’ shoulder so he didn’t go falling into the lake, until he settled his weight behind him and heard the brunette chuckling.

Miles unhooked the cord that was tying the jet ski to the dock and they started to slowly drift away. He grabbed onto the handlebars, fingers on the throttle, ready to go before deciding against it and looking back over his shoulder at Tristan.

“You have to hold onto me or you’re going to go flying off the back,” he said, smiling humorously and making Tristan blink dumbly as if he didn’t understand the words.

“Oh,” Tristan huffed, and then he was looking from Miles’ eyes to his naked back and his heart rate picked up thinking about what he was about to do. Tristan slowly slid his arms around Miles’ torso, settling them comfortably around his stomach, and it shouldn’t have felt new because he’d practically had his arms around Miles all week. But, this felt different. This wasn’t for show, this wasn’t pretending. It was just the two of them now, and although they were just riding a jet ski and it was a necessity that Tristan held onto him, it still felt warm and intimate.

He hesitantly dropped his chin to Miles’ shoulder and hugged him closer, warmth settling inside him. This was where he belonged.

He saw the curve of Miles’ lips upwards in his peripheral.

Tristan bit his bottom lip and smiled.

“Okay,” Miles nodded his head once, and then without further delay, he squeezed the throttle and they shot forward across the lake, water splashing up at them as the jet ski flew.

Tristan wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but he certainly wasn’t prepared for how fast they were actually moving, immediately tightening his grip around Miles and holding on for dear life as he watched the speedometer inch closer to seventy as they accelerated. 

It was terrifying, yet exhilarating, and Tristan began to realize with each cut of the jet ski through the water that he was loving the thrill of it. And more importantly, Miles looked damn good driving the thing, with the wind whipping back his hair and nothing but excitement plastered across his face. Tristan reveled in it.

Miles steered them left, spraying them with water, and then to the right, Tristan laughing nervously into his shoulder as they bounced across the lake, feeling something like invincible.

Miles yelled out into the void as they picked up speed, pure joy and ecstasy, and Tristan found himself shouting with him, both hollering and laughing across the lake like two kids having the time of their life. Tristan couldn’t remember ever feeling so limitless.

“Where are we going?” Tristan yelled into Miles’ ear over the sounds of the motor, wind and water. Miles turned a corner in the lake, heading towards the far side where the houses had disappeared and the landscape turned up into a high cliff enveloped by woodlands.

“You’ll see,” Miles promised, and Tristan clung onto him, curved against his spine, fitting his chin in the arc of his shoulder, looking past him at the vast of blue-green water and the large rock wall they were fast approaching.

Tristan’s stomach was starting to spin with anxiety, but he held on.

As they neared the cliff, Miles steered them right, along the edge where water met land, down the line a while until the rock slowly descended into level shore ground and Miles eased up on the throttle, slowing them down. 

They floated into shallower water, closing in on where the lake turned into a rocky beach, and Miles cut the engine before hopping off into the water that stopped just below his waist, a hand halting the jet ski’s forward motion.

The jet ski rocked with Miles’ movement and Tristan tried to grip the seat for something else to hold onto in fear the whole thing would tip, but Miles caught his forearm and held onto him.

“I got you,” Miles said, green eyes bright and sincere as he helped Tristan off the jet ski and into the water with him.

Tristan was able to breathe a little easier once he was standing back on two feet and Miles had let go.

Miles yanked the jet ski closer to shore- Tristan trying, and failing, not to gawk at his biceps as he did so- before he tied it up to a larger rock outside the water so it wouldn’t float away.

Tristan followed Miles, splashing with his feet through the water until he was stepping onto dry rocks behind him and looking at the grinning brunette with so many questions on his mind, like, for example, where the fuck were they going?

“Okay, come on,” Miles said, turning on his heels and heading into the woods without any sort of explanation, Tristan staring after him with furrowed eyebrows for a moment before inevitably following after him.

They started walking uphill, weaving through trees, toes sinking into dirt and grass, Miles leading the way.

“Miles?”

“Hm?”

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

Tristan threw back his head and groaned, because he kind of hated surprises, yet he still continued after Miles as the hill they were headed up grew steeper and steeper.

When they’d finally reached some flat ground, Tristan thought the hiking was over with until Miles began climbing up a short part of the cliff that had appeared to the left of them and Tristan just gaped at him.

“Nope, nuh-uh,” he shook his head exaggeratedly, crossing his arms across his chest, because _seriously?_ Miles had to be kidding. He wasn’t about to try to mount a cliff.

Miles laughed- a beautiful sound that almost had Tristan rethinking- his feet clinging to a groove of the elevated rock he was attempting to scale. Miles looked over his shoulder, seeing Tristan’s expression, and only laughed harder, nearly falling from the rock with how much his body was shaking in amusement. “I promise we’re almost there. The view is amazing. Come on, you have to see it!”

“No.”

“Don’t be such a drama queen,” Miles teased, turning back to continue climbing.

Tristan sighed and looked at the cliff- _and_ by default at Miles’ ass- and surveyed it. It really wasn’t a hard climb with the way the rock curved like a slope and the large grooves served as practically steps. Surely Miles would give him a hand up and wasn’t that just another excuse for them to touch?

Tristan hated how desperate he’d become.

He took a deep breath and stepped closer to the rock, looking up at where Miles had now settled, leaning against the curve at the top where he was outside of the shade of the trees, looking down at Tristan with a soft encouraging smile, face glowing in the sun.

And how could Tristan say no to that? When Miles was looking at him like that with green eyes burning harmoniously into his skin, when Tristan’s heart was skipping beats in his chest, how could he say no?

So, he didn’t.

The only thing he had to worry about was getting back down.

Tristan started forward, putting his foot on the rock and hefting himself upwards, grabbing onto stone where his hands found it and climbing up a lot easier than he would have imagined, until he could reach Miles’ outstretched hand.

There palms met and Miles’ fingers curled around his hand and pulled him the rest of the way up, Tristan stumbling up onto the flat surface until he was standing at the top, not even looking out at the view, but rather at Miles and his blazing green eyes because that was a view in itself.

Miles tilted his head and smiled knowingly, and Tristan was a little too stunned to smile back.

“You’re looking the wrong way,” Miles noted and Tristan blinked out of it as Miles let go of his hand and instead placed both of his hands on either side of Tristan’s arms to turn him around in place.

Then, Tristan was no longer looking into brilliant green eyes, but out over the cliff at the expanse of blue water beneath them, the lake glinting under the sun and birds chirping around them. Miles still had his hands on Tristan’s upper arms, holding him in place and Tristan was lost in all of it.

“Wow,” was all he managed and he felt Miles chuckle next to his ear.

“Nice, right?”

It was so much more than just nice. It was breathtaking and not just because of the beauty, but because everything seemed to start and end with this lake. Everything began with Miles bringing him here, with the two of them spending countless of hours together here, with Tristan’s heart growing here.

And it would all end here. When Tristan left there’d be no going back, there’d be no reliving this feeling of undeniable happiness and love, there’d be no more Miles and Tristan. This was it and Tristan was going to soak it all up when he still had the chance.

He walked slowly out towards the edge of the cliff, out of Miles’ touch, but never out of his reach, admiring the lake and the horizon and the sound of the boy breathing behind him. Tristan looked down, down at the water sparkling beneath them, and then his heart stopped as it became clear as day what they were doing up here.

He turned back rather abruptly to meet Miles’ gaze that wasn’t even looking at the view, but instead his eyes were already on him. When Miles saw his expression, he worried his eyebrows together and frowned.

“I’m not jumping,” Tristan blurted, and Miles’ face relaxed immediately, a mix of amusement and something else coloring his eyes.

“Come on, Tris. It’s been years since I’ve jumped from here and I don’t want to do it alone.”

“No,” Tristan shook his head wildly, and _fuck_ , how could those words already make him so uncertain about his decision. “I’m not jumping,” he repeated, probably trying to convince more of himself at this point, because if he jumped there’d be no going back. But, maybe he was already far past that point.

This wasn’t a boat or a dock. This was a _fucking_ cliff and Tristan knew that under any other circumstances he wouldn’t want to jump off it, even if he claimed to not be afraid of heights. No matter how many other people might find joy by doing so, cliff jumping had definitely never been on Tristan’s bucket list.

But, this was _Miles_ and he remembered how he felt jumping off the boat with him and jumping off the pier with him. He remembered how it made Miles feel and Tristan wanted to give that to him- that feeling of freedom the other boy needed. _Hell_ , maybe Tristan even needed that, too.

“Hey.” Miles stepped forward right into his space, reaching up to cup Tristan’s face between his hands, eyes locked with his and Tristan suddenly couldn’t breathe or think or do anything, his brain shutting off and his heart picking up.

They just looked at each other for a long moment, before Miles finally spoke again.

“You know what my favorite thing about you is?” he whispered, and Tristan’s eyes were fighting to flicker down to Miles’ lips, feeling his breath practically ghosting against his own, feeling that tingle. “Hm?” Miles pressed for a response, brushing his thumbs gently across Tristan’s cheeks.

“What?” Tristan barely breathed, blue on green, air growing thicker by the second around them.

“That you are the most selfless person I’ve ever met. That you have the biggest heart. That I know you would jump off this cliff with me if I really needed you to.”

Tristan stared at him, forgetting how to move, forgetting how to speak, forgetting how to breathe.

“But, we don’t have to,” Miles finished, and Tristan’s heart was in his throat, watching Miles’ gaze flicker to his lips and then right back up, open and honest.

Tristan swallowed thickly, not able to look away with Miles’ hands holding his face, slowly melting him.

“We don’t have to,” Tristan repeated softly, thinking about what he was about to say before he said it. “But, we’re going to.”

Miles’ eyebrows furrowed together and Tristan really wished they didn’t, aching to reach up and rub the crease in his forehead away.

“No, Tris,” Miles said, shaking his head slowly. “You’re scared.” Tristan’s eyes widened a little in surprise before Miles quickly added softly, reassuringly, “It’s okay to be scared.”

Tristan softened under Miles’ touch because of course it was okay to be scared. He knew deep down Miles was scared of something, too, and maybe that’s why they were in this whole situation to begin with, pretending to be dating.

Tristan was scared of a lot of things, but jumping off that cliff with Miles wasn’t one of them. Nerve wracking, yes, but Tristan wasn’t scared. He knew that ending, he knew the water would catch him and pull him under, but he would resurface eventually to breathe.

Tristan couldn’t say the same about his heart.

He nodded in between Miles’ touch and lifted his own hands to place over his, fingers weaving between the cracks of Miles’. “I’m not scared of this. I’m not scared to jump with you.”

“No?” Miles asked, a glint of something behind his eyes that Tristan couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“No,” Tristan smiled and all he wanted to do was kiss him. All he wanted to do was lean forward and finally press their lips together so he could breathe again, so he could feel that miraculous explosion in his heart again.

But, he couldn’t.

Miles nodded, letting his hands slip out from under Tristan’s, only to grab ahold of one and lace their fingers properly together. “Let’s jump, then.”

“Yeah, let’s jump,” Tristan laughed, a little nervously, looking at Miles with nothing, but adoration. Miles squeezed his hand and Tristan felt strong.

“On three?” Miles asked, just like when they were on the boat, although this felt so much different- the same words holding a much greater meaning. For both of them or just Tristan himself, he wasn’t so sure.

Tristan nodded. “On three.”

“One… two… three!”

One second they were at the top of the cliff and the next they were plummeting to the bottom together, both yelling out as wind pushed through them and they fell and fell, hands somehow remaining clasped together, connecting them in the air. Tristan barely remembered to hold his breath at the last second before the lake took him, pulling him deep under, suddenly thankful that the water was deep enough, that there weren’t any rocks to break his fall, but he knew Miles would take care of him. There was an unbreakable amount of trust there. 

Miles started swimming to the surface before he did, dragging him by the hand back up, Tristan trailing behind him until they broke through the water with another splash.

They both gasped for air and then they were laughing ridiculously, Tristan throwing his head back and looking up at the blue sky as he giggled, floating in the water, heart coming down from a high, absorbing the thrill.

They floated together until their laughter died down, until they were breathing normally again, until Tristan’s heart settled, until it’d dawned on them on what they’d just did.

“There’s no one else I’d rather jump off a cliff with,” Miles said, breaking the silence after a while.

Tristan smiled up at the sky before turning his head in the water to look at the brunette, green eyes already on his. He had only one answer to that.

“Me neither.”

They swam back to the jet ski together and rode it across the lake back to the house, Tristan perfectly content holding Miles close to him and resting his head on his shoulder as the lake and everything else blurred past them.

 

That night, Miles took him by the hand and led him from where they’d been playing videogames with Hunter in the house, outside past the pool and down towards the lake to join the girls and Winston where they were building a fire on the shore.

The temperature had dropped significantly with the sun going down, Tristan now snuggled up in one of Miles’ red hoodies, settling between the brunette’s legs where they sat by the fire, warming right up with the other’s arms wrapping around him.

It was a rather lopsided bonfire that Winston had clearly constructed from broken branches he’d found in the woods, and the only real reason it was burning tall orange flames was because of the copious amount of lighter fluid that both Chewy and Miles had taken turns squirting onto it.

Frankie had brought her guitar down and was strumming mindlessly on it, humming the verse of a song that sounded familiar, but Tristan wasn’t quite sure what was yet, while Shay and Lola chatted about volleyball and Winston continued poking at the fire with a stick.

It wasn’t until the chorus hit and Miles was singing the lyrics in his ear that Tristan recognized the song, something his mom used to listen to on the radio when he was younger and then had been re-popularized a couple years ago in the source of vine covers.

_Now I'm free, I'm free fallin'_

Miles tapped his fingers against Tristan’s forearms and Tristan rocked back and forth in his arms, holding onto blue sleeves, listening to Miles’ voice singing soft and husky for his ears only.

_Yeah I'm free, free fallin'_

Tristan never felt so at home.

After Frankie had set down her guitar, Lola ripped open a bag of marshmallows, poking them on sticks and passing them around the fire for everyone to roast over the flame, Winston a little too excited for the upcoming sugar intake.

Miles held his marshmallow next to Tristan’s over the fire, occasionally hitting his stick against Tristan’s just to tease him, and Tristan rolled his eyes every time, but it was always so fondly, so full of love.

And when Miles had burnt his marshmallow to a crisp, he pulled it out of the fire, Tristan watching a little enviously as Lola helped him stick it between chocolate and two graham crackers, even when he had no right to be jealous no matter how many times Lola batted her eyelashes at Miles.

The thing was though, when Miles got his s’more in his hand and threw his stick behind him, it was Tristan’s head he pressed a kiss to and wrapped his free arm around, hand immediately finding Tristan’s in his lap. So maybe- just maybe- there was no _reason_ for Tristan to resent Lola, not when Miles was only making advances towards him. Even if it was _just_ acting, he wasn’t showing any interest in Lola when Tristan was around and that had to count for something.

So, Tristan pushed those thoughts aside and focused his attention on the boy holding him and eating his s’more. It was the perfect way to end a perfect day.

Tristan had more hope than in previous days that they could be friends after this, that when his heart healed they could spend more days like this together, that Miles would always be a part of his life and not just a heartbreaking memory.

When he turned his head to look at the brunette, he found his lips covered in marshmallow and Tristan grinned at the sight, reaching up to wipe the stickiness away with his thumb.

“You’re such a dork,” Tristan laughed, and Miles raised his eyebrows at him humorously, licking his lips.

“I love you,” Tristan admitted, heart throbbing in his chest.

Miles’ lips curved up into a soft smile as he tilted his head towards him, their foreheads touching. “I love you, too.”

Tristan wished for nothing more than for those words to be true.

They kissed and the taste was almost bittersweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope ya'll enjoyed the fluff... but prepare yourselves
> 
>  
> 
> [Come yell at me to update!](http://smileshollingsworth.tumblr.com/ask)


	7. Don't Take Me Tongue Tied

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long. A lot needed to happen in this chapter and parts of it were very hard to write and now it's 5 am and this might actually be shit, but I'm posting it anyway. All mistakes are mine.
> 
> Okay, Ryan, jokes over, come home now. I've gone rogue without you.

Stretching out in bed, breaking out of sleep and looking for his human blanket with a small smile curling onto his face, Tristan was confused to say the least when his hands came up empty, the familiar warm skin missing from the sheets next to him.

He opened his eyes and frowned.

It was the first day he’d woken up without Miles laying beside him in bed, the brunette usually still fast asleep at this hour. And now that Tristan _wasn’t_ waking up next to Miles, he felt a little vacant inside, a little unfulfilled knowing the first thing he was going to see wasn’t Miles’ face.

_He better start getting used to it._

Tristan tried not to think too much of it, hoping Miles had just wanted to get an earlier start to the day and instead wasn’t having trouble sleeping, wasn’t overthinking things Tristan didn’t want him to overthink.

Tristan was finding the empty sheets sort of depressing, so he turned over to look at the far wall instead, outside through the glass doors where the blinds had been tied back, revealing the balcony and lake in the horizon.

The light was a little dimmer outside than usual, Tristan looking up to find the sun covered in thick clouds and no longer producing those glowing rays that lit up the bedroom through the windows. It left the lake looking dark and grey.

It was _also_ depressing.

Tristan sighed, rolling out of bed and heading into the bathroom to shower and get dressed for the day, knowing he probably wouldn’t feel any better until he was looking into a set of dark green eyes.

It wasn’t until he’d finished getting ready and opened up the bedroom door to head downstairs that he heard the yelling.

Tristan froze for a second outside the door, eyes growing wide, listening to the muffled shouting and praying he wasn’t hearing correctly. He couldn’t make out the words, just the echo bouncing off the hallway walls, but it sounded ugly.

He visibly flinched when he heard a crash, something like glass breaking, and the yelling continued.

With a cold spine and a pounding heart, Tristan slowly moved through the hallway and towards the staircase, slowly creeping down the steps, holding his breath, dread and worry spinning in the pit of his stomach.

As he moved closer to the bottom floor, to the kitchen where the source of the screaming seemed to be coming from, he could start to make out words, bits of sentences. He recognized Mr. Hollingsworth’s harsh tone immediately, catching just fragments as his ears strained to listen.

“We’re a family--”

“You don’t get to--” 

“Selfish and spoiled rotten--”

“I am done putting--” 

“You will do as I say!”

Tristan swallowed hard, the fight getting louder and louder as he reached the hardwood floor beneath the stairs, hearing more and more, freezing once again in place.

“How fucking blind are you? You think this is how a family acts?”

_That_ was Miles’ voice.

Tristan’s heart was suddenly in his throat.

“I am so _sick_ of listening to your fucking demands and threats! If you want to threaten me than just do it already! Pull the plug! What the fuck are you waiting for?” There was banging, like Miles was hitting his hands against the counter after every word and Tristan flinched at the sound. “You’re right! I never gave a shit about you or your stupid political campaign! You think that’s going to change? You think I’ll come back here? To live under the same roof as you? You know for someone who claims to be so smart you’re down right stupid!”

“Don’t you dare walk away from me, Miles! Get back here!”

Tristan heard the back door slide open roughly, then slam shut, rattling with the force of it, kitchen settling into dead silence. He expected the glass to shatter, but somehow it managed to stay in one piece, which was more than could be said about the Hollingsworth dynamic.

Tristan was too shocked to move.

It was silent for three long seconds before there was the sound of loud feet leaving the room, another slamming door muffled from the other side of the house, Tristan quivering in it’s wake.

It took him several minutes to remember how to breathe, remember how to move his feet, remember how to feel. The only sound was the soft shuffle of somebody still in the kitchen.

He walked slowly and hesitantly into the room, unsure of what he was walking into, but only finding Mrs. Hollingsworth with a broom and dustpan, silently sweeping up pieces of broken ceramic that used to assemble a coffee mug from the tile floor.

Tristan’s eyes widened as realization flickered inside him.

Diana didn’t notice him until she moved to empty the broken pieces in the garbage bin, finally looking up from the floor and eyes growing in surprise when she saw that she wasn’t alone. 

“Oh- Tristan, I didn’t see you there,” she startled, caught off guard, but still offering him a smile even though everything else about her seemed frantic.

Tristan stared at her, kind of scowling, tilting his head in confusion before looking to the cabinet behind her, where coffee was still dripping in streaks down the white wood, like the mug had been thrown at it- at someone. 

His stomach ached and twisted. He wanted to hunt down Mr. Hollingsworth and destroy him. 

She followed his line of sight to the cabinet and quickly moved to grab some paper towels and wipe the coffee away. It still left a brown stain.

“Miles had a small fight with his father,” she offered in explanation, throwing out the soiled paper towels and tilting her head towards the back door that Tristan had just heard slam deafeningly.

Nothing about that fight had sounded small.

“Maybe you should go talk to him, honey. I’m sure he only wants to see you,” she added lightly.

Everything about Tristan felt so heavy.

He looked towards the glass windows on the back wall, through them and all the way down by the lake where he saw the speck of Miles in the distance, throwing rocks into the water.

His heart squeezed painfully in his chest, longing to close the distance between him and the brunette, longing to make everything okay again.

He watched Miles bend down to pick up another stone from the shore, bringing it behind his head and chucking it like a baseball into the water, watching it soar and then sink.

Tristan wanted nothing more than to save him.

He shook his head, forcing himself to glance back to Mrs. Hollingsworth, and for the first time since being here, he saw her as nothing more than a coward- nothing more than a weak and scared woman hiding behind a head of wild blonde curls and a thread of lies.

He gave her nothing but a tight nod before walking towards the glass door, sliding it open gently, and shutting it behind him just as softly, closing that barrier between him and Miles and the rest of the world.

He still wasn’t breathing any easier.

Tristan looked to find Miles still restless in the distance, his hands reaching up to thread deep into his brown hair, fingers curling around strands to pull, but they let go and fell back to his sides just as quickly. He watched him kick his foot at the ground instead, at the rocks, kicking them towards the lake.

Tristan felt like he could hear the boy’s screaming thoughts loud and clear despite the space between them and it made his heart feel like it was splitting in two.

The sky was getting darker and darker overhead and Tristan finally moved.

He wasn’t sure if he walked or ran or sprinted towards the lake, but one second he was standing outside the back door on the patio and the next he was past the pool and almost down the grass hill, because all he knew was he needed to be with Miles and it didn’t matter how he got there.

Miles’ hands were in tight fists at his sides and he kicked one last stone before turning and scrubbing his hands over his face, pacing along the edge of the shore. He turned back towards the lake where purple clouds were hanging heavily over and collapsed to the ground, sitting and pulling his knees to his chest, burying his face in his lap.

Tristan felt a rain drop.

Miles had never looked smaller, curled in on himself just ten feet in front of Tristan, like years had been shaved from his past.

_Hell_ , maybe they had.

Tristan’s feet hit the edge of the rocky shore, making a loud enough sound for Miles to jump, head whipping around and green eyes filled with panic as they landed on Tristan.

Tristan nearly froze, seeing Miles’ frightened expression that only worried him even more, but then there was a wave of recognition across the brunette’s face and his shoulders relaxed just slightly, so Tristan proceeded with caution, keeping his eyes locked with those sparkling green ones with each step towards him.

Miles’ face was red, but he wasn’t crying, not yet, and Tristan wondered about that. He’d always known Miles was strong, but now it dawned on him _how_ strong that actually was. Despite the mess that this whole situation was, he suddenly felt proud, so proud of him for being so strong, and that managed to warm him just a little.

Miles rubbed his nose with the back of his hand and turned around to look at the darkening lake, watching small droplets of water plop on the surface where it started to drizzle.

Tristan sat on the rocky shore beside him, following his gaze out onto the lake, reaching out with one of his hands for the other boy and finding his knee.

“Tristan-” Miles’ voice caught and Tristan’s heart broke.

He looked to his left, finding watery green eyes already on him and Tristan shook his head, squeezing his knee. 

Miles blinked rapidly, fighting back emotions, moving his hand on top of Tristan’s, fingers cold. “How much did you hear?” he asked softly.

Tristan shook his head because that didn’t matter. “What happened?” he croaked.

Miles stared at him, face flushed and chapped lips parted, gears visibly turning in his head, but he didn’t give him an answer. Instead he sniffed and looked back to the lake, shaking his head lightly. “Don’t worry about it, okay? Everything’s fine.”

Tristan’s eyebrows furrowed together and he wasn’t going to take that as an answer. Everything wasn’t _fine_. Not with all those words said, and doors slammed, and rocks kicked. Nothing about that was fine and Tristan needed to know that Miles was okay and he needed to be there for him if he wasn’t.

He shifted onto his knees and twisted around so he was in front of Miles, facing him, both of his hands settling on both of the brunette’s bent kneecaps, rocks digging uncomfortably into his shins.

“ _No_ , Miles. You can talk to me, okay? I need you to talk to me,” Tristan begged, sounding near hysterics, his eyes now the ones starting to fill with tears. All he could picture was this beautiful boy in front of him and that coffee mug being heaved at his face, and his heart hurt _so bad_ that he felt sick.

Tristan sucked in a sharp breath, willing his feelings to go away because this was about Miles, not him. He couldn’t start crying right now, not when Miles was barely holding himself together as is.

“Hey, Tris-” Miles reached for him, leaning forward, fingers wrapping around his forearms and eyebrows worrying together. “I’ll talk to you. Of course I’ll talk to you. Don’t get upset.”

“I’m sorry,” Tristan said, looking down, blinking and forcing his emotions to go away to deal with another time. He shouldn’t be reacting this way, but _of course_ he was. He loved Miles, loved him probably more than anything or anyone. So how couldn’t he get upset over someone hurting him, over not knowing what was going on inside his head? “I just--”

“I know.” Miles squeezed his forearms and Tristan looked back up, right into burning green eyes that left heat rising to his cheeks, had him feeling solid under his gaze again. “I know,” Miles repeated softly, leaning forward just a bit and reassuring Tristan with an unwavering promise. “I’m okay… _we’re_ okay.” His eyes never left his.

Tristan nodded after a moment, heart-hammering, fingers brushing against his knees, against the fabric of Miles’ shorts. “Okay,” he whispered.

Miles brought his hands back to rub at his own eyes, clearing them of any tears threatening to spill and letting a soft chuckle escape his lips, something that sounded wrong in the moment, that didn’t quite fit. “Now will you please sit back down next to me and stop freaking me the fuck out,” he laughed shakily. Tristan realized he wasn’t okay.

Tristan let out a small huff despite that and shook his head, shifting back around to sit next to Miles. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

Tristan turned his head to meet Miles’ lopsided smile that didn’t quite meet the glint in his eyes and it scared him, scared him enough to have him biting down hard on the inside of his cheek. He needed Miles to talk to him.

“You worry about me too much,” Miles decided, tilting his head to the side.

Tristan just looked at him, pleading with his eyes for anything, anything that will settle the uneasiness he felt through Miles’ frenetic expression. “Well, I care about you,” Tristan said quietly, honestly. _More than anything._

Miles stared at him, eyes burning again and his mouth turned into a grimace. “Maybe you shouldn’t.”

Tristan’s heart dropped and his eyebrows knitted together again, and he reached to put his hand on the bare skin of Miles’ wrist, needing to touch him, needing to feel his pulse beneath the pad of his thumb, needing for him to be okay. “What does that even mean?” he asked, fighting a tremble.

Miles looked down at the fingers on his wrist, and then away, out towards the shady lake where the drizzle was starting to pick up, but not enough to interrupt them yet. 

“It means-” Miles chuckled again, dryly, bitterly, shaking his head and Tristan couldn’t stand the sound of it. “You heard what went on in there, Tristan, come on. My life is a disaster. _I’m_ a disaster. Everyone knows it.” His voice was low, but firm, and Tristan was afraid Miles actually believed it. 

“I brought you here, dragged you into this mess- into my family shit that I knew was going to turn out like this… I provoked my father, forced him into a spot he would lash out in and it worked,” Miles continued, another un-amused laugh, but maybe there was a glint of satisfaction there, too. “And now I can’t even walk through my house without getting something wheeled at my head.” He looked at Tristan, green eyes sharp and glimmering, lowering his voice impossibly more without becoming a whisper. “I’m about as fucked up as they come, Tris. So you just shouldn’t waste your time caring about somebody like me.”

Tristan swallowed audibly, burning under the brunette’s unwavering gaze, and there was a lot just said, a lot Tristan needed to address, but there was something else- something more. “What happened?” he asked for the second time that day, hoping he actually got an answer this time.

Miles sighed and dropped his gaze, looking back at the lake and shifting forward to rest his forearms on his bent knees, tired. He licked his lips and simply said, “He threatened to stop paying my tuition.”

Tristan squinted at Miles, turning the words around in his head, letting the meaning sink in before immediately deciding not to believe them. “What?” he asked incredulously, eyes practically bulging from his head in panic.

He was well aware that it was incredibly selfish for his first thought to be that he would probably never get to see Miles again if he couldn’t return to school, but Tristan’s heart felt like it was being ripped from his chest. He would never be able to bear having to say goodbye after everything that’s happened between them. 

Miles glanced back at him, taking one look at his fear-stricken face and rushed to assure him.

“No- look, it’s complicated.” Miles moved his hand under Tristan’s that was still at his wrist to tangle their fingers together, turning his body to face him. “He’s been using that against me since the beginning of fall semester. It’s just an empty threat to get me to do what he wants. He won’t actually do it when he knows it’ll only make me run further from him.”

Tristan shook his head, opening his mouth and closing it. He didn’t know what to think or what to say, other than that he fucking loathed Mr. Hollingsworth.

“I’m not going to be his puppet,” Miles said defiantly, looking down at where his fingers were playing with Tristan’s, resolving his feelings. “He’s got my mom and Frankie, and now even Hunter, all strung up to do as he says… but he won’t get me.” Miles shook his head and Tristan squeezed his fingers. “I’m not going to let him ruin me like he ruins everything.”

His words settled absolutely in the breeze that was picking up and the rain that was starting to come down a little harder, turning into more than just a drizzle. Tristan tore his eyes away from the brunette to look up at the sky, where drops of water landed cold on his face, falling from dark clouds moving towards them. It was weird being that they’d had perfect sunny weather since arriving here, and now of all days, it was going to storm.

Tristan looked back at Miles and reached with his free hand to brush away the raindrops on the brunette’s forehead, trailing his hand to rest on his cheek, his soft skin, blue on green.

“You’re wrong, you know?” Tristan said softly, smiling sadly at the best person he knew in front of him and wishing for nothing more than for Miles to see himself for who he really was. “You’re not fucked up. You’re _not_ a waste of time. You’re so much more than that and I’d do anything- _anything_ to get you to see what I see.”

Miles looked so vulnerable, staring at him with wide eyes and leaning unnoticeably into his hand- his touch. He dropped his gaze and then returned it before asking quietly, weakly, “What do you see?”

Tristan brushed his thumb across Miles’ cheek and slid his hand down his face to rest on his warm neck, fingers at the nape of his hair. He saw so much in those bright green eyes that he didn’t even know where to begin. There was so much behind that bad boy front that Tristan was just beginning to discover.

“I see someone who’s unbelievably strong… who’s kind and would do anything to protect their siblings and friends. I see someone with a great sense of humor, that tries to make the best of _every_ situation despite how shitty things are. I see someone with a personality and heart that people immediately fall in love with because you’re that special and remarkable.” Tristan swallowed, feeling his heart throbbing in his chest, his hand burning against Miles’ skin. “You’re the bravest person I know, Miles. You’re nothing like the man that raised you.” Miles looked so overwhelmed, so scared of the words and his eyes were sparkling. Tristan squeezed his hand in his again. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered over the rain.

Miles just looked at him for a long moment, emotions racing behind his gaze, and then he smiled- a real smile, where the corners of his lips turned up and met his eyes. “A beautiful disaster,” he corrected, and Tristan smiled even though he’d never compare Miles to a disaster.

“Aren’t we all, though?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at the brunette.

Miles pressed his lips together, scrunching up his face and shaking his head. “Not you.”

Tristan laughed lightly. “You don’t know that.” He would sure be a disaster when he returned to college and was no longer living this fairytale in his head where him and Miles were in love and lived happily ever after together.

“I do,” Miles assured him with that charming smile that made Tristan’s stomach and heart flutter. “I know it.”

They stared at each other, smiling softly for a couple moments before Miles asked, “Do you regret spending spring break here- with me?” Tristan didn’t miss the undeniable doubt in his question, the fear of the answer.

Tristan let his hand fall off Miles’ neck and back into his own lap, never breaking his gaze, watching drops of rain roll down his skin and leave wet blotches in his blue shirt. 

“No. Never,” he spoke sincerely, not even needing to think it over in his head before responding. He knew the truth. He knew what it meant. There was nothing uncertain when it came to how he felt about Miles. “I’d do it again. I’d do it a thousand times over if it meant I got to meet you.”

He’d let his heart break a thousand times over if it meant he got to fall in love like this, with him.

Miles’ gaze dropped to Tristan’s lips and the air felt so thick, but maybe that was just the storm.

Tristan was burning.

“Yeah, me too.”

The sky opened up suddenly, and it began to pour, and the boys tore their eyes away from each other to look at the lake, at the sky that was trying to drown them.

“We’re going to get soaked,” Miles chuckled, a sound that had Tristan’s heart souring again, pounding in his chest.

Tristan didn’t care.

Miles pushed up from the rocks, standing quickly and turning in front of Tristan to offer him a hand to his feet. “Come on!” he called over the wind and rain, flashing that toothy smile that Tristan lived for.

Tristan blinked, took his hand and was pulled off the ground, and then the two boys were running back towards the house, water down-pouring onto them, drenching them and leaving their clothes heavy and uncomfortable against their skin, but they were laughing none-the-less, like two stupid idiots that hadn’t just been waist deep in the seriousness of reality, like they hadn’t had a care in the world but each other.

Miles clung tightly to his hand, fingers laced together as he pulled him towards the mansion, past the pool and onto the patio until they were standing in front of that glass barrier and Miles was yanking it open so that they could stumble inside and out of the rain.

Miles slid the door shut tightly behind them, cutting them off from the storm, and everything had been loud outside, but now it was quiet- so quiet, the only sound the two of them breathing heavily, dripping water onto the tile floor.

It was dark in the kitchen and living area, the lights had been turned off and with the sun hidden behind dense storm clouds there was no natural light to shine through the wide glass windows. It was dark and empty.

Their laughter had subsided as they both fought to catch their breath, Tristan turning to look at Miles who had moved from closing the door to stand next to him, reaching back out for his hand and letting their fingers brush against each other’s.

Tristan shivered and it wasn’t because he was cold despite being soaking wet in an air-conditioned room. No, he was burning with Miles’ lasting gaze the source of the flames and his touch raising goose bumps to his skin.

Everything felt in slow motion and tense and Miles’ eyes flickered to Tristan’s lips again and he seemed to resolve something that Tristan had been waiting his life for.

Miles moved first, but Tristan followed his movement a millisecond after, hands flying up to cup his cheeks and pulling their mouths together, kissing each other.

This wasn’t any kiss they’d had before. This was different. This was real.

Their lips pushed desperately against each other’s, bodies stumbling together to close the distance, mouths opening to slot together and gasp the same air.

Tristan’s face was ablaze where Miles held him still, mouth sweet torture as he kissed him until he was licking inside his mouth and sliding their tongues together, leaving Tristan a wobbly mess.

Miles maneuvered them around, walking Tristan the short steps backwards till his back was pressing against the wall and the windows and Miles was sliding a leg between his to press their bodies flush against each other.

Tristan’s head was exploding and he was panting embarrassingly into Miles’ mouth, but all the other boy did was keep kissing him, flicking his wet tongue against his and tugging their lips together, running his hands from Tristan’s face down his sides, gripping the fabric of his soaked shirt and making his toes curl.

Tristan’s hands tangled into dripping brown locks of hair, grasping onto Miles as well as his sanity, his heart wrecking his chest as he lost himself in a hot mouth that tasted just like lust and Listerine.

It could have been just seconds or minutes they were frantically kissing each other and sucking on each other’s tongues like their lives depended on it before a throat clearing had Miles’ freezing against him and his lips pulling immediately away.

Miles jumped back, turning around to the source of the noise and Tristan’s eyes shot open to find Mrs. Hollingsworth standing in the entrance to the kitchen with her eyebrows raised and a laundry basket in her hands.

Tristan brushed his fingers across his swollen lips, feeling the ghost of Miles’ mouth and tongue there, and something began sinking painfully inside him.

“Oh my! You boys are soaking wet!” Mrs. Hollingsworth exclaimed, looking between the two of them, her only surprise over their dripping state. “How did you manage to get caught out in the rain?”

Tristan couldn’t focus. Dread was quickly creeping up inside him. How could he be so stupid?

The room was silent and Mrs. Hollingsworth stared at them expectantly. Why the fuck wasn’t Miles saying anything?

He had to have known she was there and that she was going to walk into the room. Miles had only kissed him because he knew his mother was going to see. None of this had been real. This was just another part of the charade. Whatever had happened outside between them was different- was just platonic, how it was supposed to be between them, how it would always be between them.

Miles would never _really_ kiss him.

Tristan felt sick.

He sucked in a breath and glanced to his side at Miles, still wondering why the fuck he wasn’t answering his mom and wondering if he should just speak up for him, but Tristan didn’t trust his own voice right now, not when he was feeling so broken.

The brunette was frozen next to him, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights, as if he’d been caught red-handed, doing something he shouldn’t have been doing. Which _that_ didn’t make any sense, because according to this fake relationship they were in it was perfectly normal for them to be seen kissing each other by his mother. _Hell_ , that was the whole purpose. They’d been doing that all week.

“We were down by the lake and it just started down-pouring,” Tristan managed, eyes on Miles, eyebrows furrowed together, unsure. 

“Ah, well, there’s clean towels in the closet upstairs. Miles, go on, get in some dry clothes before you two catch pneumonia,” Diana said with a concerned smile and Miles seemed to snap out of it, nodding kind of dumbly at his mother before leading the way past her and upstairs.

Tristan followed quietly behind him, his thoughts racing and his heart hurting. He didn’t know what to think, what was the truth.

They walked into their bedroom, and Miles hovered by the doorway, rubbing awkwardly at his nose, his kiss-swollen lips. He wouldn’t look at Tristan. “I’ll- uh- go get us some towels.”

Tristan watched him leave, frowning at him, dropping his gaze to the carpet and shifting awkwardly in his wet clothes. He kicked off his shoes and stared hard at the ground, trying to sort through what the fuck just happened, make some sort of sense of it in his head.

Miles had been caught off guard when he heard somebody else in the room downstairs. He hadn’t known she would see. He had been kissing him for real.

But, what if his reaction had just been acting? What if he wanted his mom to think they were making out because they figured they were alone?

Tristan felt the hope slowly draining out of him.

Miles re-entered the room, closing the door quietly behind him and he set two folded white towels down on the end of the bed. He still wouldn’t look at Tristan.

Tristan watched him run both his hands over his face and then pull his wet t-shirt over his head, the younger boy fighting to keep his eyes from falling to that newly exposed skin, because now was not the time to be ogling. 

He failed.

Tristan hadn’t even felt himself shaking, hadn’t heard his teeth chattering until it was enough to finally grab Miles’ attention and get him to turn and look at him.

“Tris, you have to change out of your wet clothes,” he said, but Tristan didn’t understand. His mind was too occupied with a flood of questions over what was real and what was fake and how he felt and what he knew in his heart Miles felt.

Miles stared at him and when he realized Tristan wasn’t going to move, he moved for him. 

“Come on.” He stepped towards him and reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it up, tugging where the wet fabric stuck to Tristan’s skin, and Tristan let him yank it over his head even though it did nothing to help answer any of his questions.

Miles dropped the wet shirt to the ground, now staring at Tristan’s naked chest instead of meeting his gaze. They were so close and breathing and Tristan was still shaking.

“Are you going to make me take off your pants too, or can you handle that?” Miles asked lowly, a hint of humor that was missing that toothy smile.

Tristan couldn’t laugh, couldn’t push him away and run to the bathroom to undress out of his shorts and soaked through boxers like his conscious was screaming at him to.

He needed to know.

“Miles,” Tristan said softly and the brunette looked up, meeting his gaze with vivid green orbs and dilated pupils. There were so many unspoken questions that Tristan begged to be answered through them. Were they just pretending? Was Tristan just imagining this? Was this all just a part of the game Miles brought him here for?

Those brilliant honest eyes stared back at him timidly, and Miles shook his head once. “No.”

Miles brought his hands up to Tristan’s neck and pulled him forward to kiss him, that heat and spark rising up inside Tristan immediately, warming his body and pressing him into the kiss, picking up right where they left off.

This was actually happening.

Their desperate and breathtaking kisses overlapped until their mouths were molding together and lips were parting so tongues could slip between teeth and lick wet and hot against each other. Tristan’s hands found Miles’ hips and tugged him forward, knocking into each other with stumbling feet trying to keep their balance.

It was clumsy and their eagerness was getting the best of them because they’d waited too long for this, too much want and can’t have over the past seven days to not let the desire take over when it was finally here, when they were alone and finally kissing for just the two of them.

Miles threaded his fingers into Tristan’s hair; tugging on the wet curls and sucking on his bottom lip, making Tristan whine into his mouth, making his hips buck forward against his, Miles humming approvingly. 

Miles was everywhere and Tristan was on fire and he loved it.

Tristan memorized every touch, every movement of Miles’ tongue in his mouth, every beat of his own heart. This was real- so real that it was hard for Tristan to believe he wasn’t dreaming. This was everything he’d wanted and more.

Miles was moving them, turning them both around and guiding Tristan till the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed and he fell backwards onto the mattress, Miles right behind him, impressively not breaking their lips, swiping the clean towels sitting on the bed out of the way with his arm.

Tristan’s hands slid up to find the bare skin of Miles’ back, pressing into the warmth, pulling him down closer to him, leaning his head up to kiss him hard and passionate. Miles’ hands were sliding down his sides, making Tristan quiver at the touch, making Miles press his body further against him.

It was kind of an awkward position, with Tristan half lying on the bed and Miles leaning over him, wet shorts and all, but they were too focused on the moans coming from each other’s mouths to care.

Miles finally broke the kiss to breathe, lips popping apart and chasing back together for another chaste kiss, Tristan allowing his eyes to flutter back open as Miles straightened a little and looked down at him, eyes scorching with lust, Tristan’s pale skin flushed.

They both gasped for air, chests heaving, gazes locked heavily and intimately together.

Miles leaned down to kiss him again, lips pressing eagerly together, and reached down to fumble with Tristan’s shorts, undoing them and yanking them down his legs.

Tristan broke the kiss, sitting up to push himself higher on the bed and further out of his shorts that Miles was still holding onto, until the brunette was shaking them off his feet and throwing them to the floor before turning to handle his own.

Tristan watched him a little impatiently as he struggled to yank his own wet shorts down his damp skin, enough so he could kick them the rest of the way off, nearly tripping as they caught around one of his ankles, and Tristan stifled a laugh. He climbed onto the bed once he was freed of them, pushing Tristan back until he was pressed into the mattress and Miles was hovering over him, reconnecting their lips heatedly.

Miles situated himself between Tristan’s legs and with the only barrier between them being two thin pairs of boxers; it wasn’t long at all before they were both hard and rocking against each other.

There was a lot of tongue and soft moans and pressing fingers and Tristan was so gone, so in love, so hot and bothered.

Miles moved down, kissing the corner of his lips, his jaw, his neck, kissing and biting and sucking at the skin above his collarbone, all while continuing to grind his hips down against Tristan’s, making his breath catch each time in perfect motion.

Miles’ hands slid to the hem of Tristan’s boxers, hooking his thumbs underneath the waistband and nipping at his skin, halting the circular movement of his hips so that he could slowly slide them down.

Tristan whined and Miles lifted his head to kiss him, slipping his tongue easily inside his parted lips.

Tristan did his best to kick his boxers the rest of the way off while simultaneously losing himself in Miles’ mouth, feeling Miles’ burning hand along his bare thigh, the curve of his ass, and Tristan was quickly forgetting how to breathe, how to even kiss.

Tristan remembered enough to reach for Miles’ boxers and push them ungracefully down, not slow or careful or anything like Miles had done to him, because he was too horny and in love to give a shit at the moment.

He thought he felt the breath of Miles chuckling against his lips.

Apparently Miles managed to wiggle his boxers the rest of the way off because when he rolled his hips against Tristan’s again, they were both naked and things turned impossibly more sweltering.

Miles moaned, sliding his tongue back to lick hotly along Tristan’s bottom lip, Tristan gasping into his mouth and shamelessly bucking his hips up again, chasing friction.

Miles wrapped a hand tight around him, slowly jerked him, and Tristan’s breath hitched.

He already knew this was going to be the best hand job of his life.

Bringing one hand to cup the back of Miles’ neck, Tristan’s other shifted down to touch the brunette, moving his hand up and down around him, twisting his wrist and causing Miles to make small throaty sounds that made Tristan’s dick twitch. 

Their kissing quickly turned into fast panting against each other’s lips as the movement of their hands sped up, foreheads pressing together, jerking each other off.

“Tris-” Miles gasped repeatedly and with hooded eyelids, Tristan grazed his tongue against his bottom lip, a silent reminder that they were here, _together_ , that Tristan had Miles and Miles had Tristan and in that moment, that was all they needed.

It wasn’t going to last long; both of them were well aware of that as their hands moved faster and they continued grunting against each other’s mouths and thrusting desperately into each other’s hands. They were quickly reaching their climax and there was no turning back, not that either of them wanted to.

Tristan never wanted to turn back from this, never wanted to forget this feeling- this moment. From now on there would only be Tristan pre-Miles-making-him-orgasm and Tristan post-Miles-making-him-orgasm. This was a pivotal moment and Tristan could barely focus enough to savor it.

Miles came first, pressing his lips against Tristan’s to muffle the soft whimper that escaped his lips, screwing his eyes shut and covering Tristan’s hand in sticky cum as he jerked him through it. 

His own hand on Tristan jolted, staggering the movement and Tristan continued rocking his hips upwards to chase his own orgasm that was _right there_ , Miles catching himself and squeezing Tristan in his hand, picking up the pace again until Tristan followed him right over the edge moments later.

Tristan groaned as he came, body overflowing with pure bliss and heat and Miles kissed him softly, brushing their lips together, overlapping and tugging with each other, gentle and wet and sweet. Tristan was in seventh heaven.

They breathed against each other for a while, riding out the aftermath of their orgasms, foreheads still pressed together; and then Miles rolled onto the bed beside him and they just kissed, hands wandering along torsos and around necks, limbs tangling together, licking and sucking at each other’s lips, feeling and holding each other tightly, warmly.

Tristan’s heart was finally fulfilled.

 

They spent the rest of the day in bed like that together, kissing and cuddling, getting each other off a couple more times, drifting in and out of sleep, always touching.

It wasn’t until Tristan woke up from a particularly long nap in the evening that he finally found Miles missing from bed; the twisted sheets empty next to him, that immediate spike of worry hitting him.

He sat up in bed and rubbed at his eyes, breathing and trying to push the anxiety away that came with the absence of Miles, but he was quickly reminded of just that morning when he’d woken up without him and where exactly the brunette had been.

Tristan looked around the room and found the balcony doors pulled open, a silhouette standing outside in just his boxers, leaning against the railing and looking out at the lake. 

Tristan breathed easier.

It was dark out, the sun long set as it turned to night, the only brightness being the glowing moon hanging over the lake, the bright blue of the pool lit up, and the soft yellow coming from the lights on the patio. 

Tristan could hear faint laughter and music coming from below the balcony, but Miles was just peace and quiet, unbothered by it.

He climbed out of bed and pulled on a clean pair of boxers before heading towards him.

_You are unforgettable._  
_I need to get you alone._

Tristan stepped out onto the balcony, into the soft breeze of the night even though the sky had significantly cleared up since the storm earlier, crossing his arms over his bare chest and stifling a shiver.

_Right now, oh, like we in a hurry._  
_No, no I won't tell nobody._

He looked at the brunette facing away from him, the shift of his back muscles and shoulders as he breathed, and Tristan smiled softly to himself, feeling so lucky.

_You're on your level, too._  
_Tryna do what lovers do._

He took a couple steps forward till he was next to Miles, unfolding his arms so he could reach out a hand and touch the back of Miles’ shoulder.

Miles flinched and Tristan’s hand froze.

“Hey, it’s just me,” he quickly reassured him as Miles’ evergreen eyes found his, alarmed at first and then relaxing to the sight of the familiar blue. Tristan brushed his hand soothingly down the skin of Miles’ back.

“Sorry, did I wake you?”

Tristan’s eyebrows furrowed lightly together, shaking his head. “No, it’s okay.” He trailed his hand back up to the nape of Miles’ neck, into his hair. “What are you doing out here?”

Miles looked away from him, back at the lake in the distance, tapping his fingers against the edge of the white railing. 

Frankie’s laugh rang out from the patio and Tristan tore his gaze away from Miles to look down to where the girls and Winston were playing music and presumably getting drunk, if Frankie dancing with a bottle of Smirnoff Ice in her hand was any indication.

“Just thinking, I guess,” Miles shrugged and Tristan looked back to him, swallowing thickly.

“About?” he prompted tentatively.

The music changed to a new song and Lola’s squeal rang out, causing Tristan’s eye to twitch just slightly.

Miles turned to face him and reached to snake his arm around his waist, corners of his lips picking up into a small smile as he tugged Tristan closer. “Nothing important,” he said simply.

Tristan was about to press him for more, but Miles shut him up with a kiss and Tristan didn’t have much self-control to stop himself from melting into it. 

He threw his other arm around Miles’ neck and opened his mouth fervently for him.

_I just wanna dive in the water, with you._  
_Baby, we can't see the bottom._  
_It's so easy to fall for each other._  
_I'm just hoping we catch one another._

They kissed deeply, ignoring the drunken noises coming from the patio, ignoring the sounds of the lake and the wind and the night. There was nothing but each other, their lips moving in tandem, their tongues trailing together, their hearts beating as one, making out on the balcony overlooking the lake.

Tristan and Miles.

Miles and Tristan.

_Oh na na, just be careful, na na._  
_Love ain't simple, na na._  
_Promise me no promises._

Miles broke the kiss to pull Tristan into a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist and burying his nose in the crook of his neck, breathing him in. Tristan clung onto him, warm and secure around him.

_Oh na na, just be careful, na na._  
_Love ain't simple, na na._  
_Promise me no promises._

And after a couple minutes, Miles pulled away and pressed a lingering kiss to Tristan’s temple, keeping one arm snaked around him as he led them away from the balcony and inside.

“Come on, let’s go back to bed.”

Tristan would never say no to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here](https://open.spotify.com/user/pj6379/playlist/4UwNvfnp7pzpjSovo8FkGD) is the playlist with every song I've referenced thus far in this fic (plus one song from next chapter)! Enjoy.
> 
> There's been some confusion with my tumblr. I'm now [richie-eds](http://richie-eds.tumblr.com), but that does not mean I am not still one hundred percent triles trash, and I am definitely not abandoning my fics! I'm going through an It phase, bear with me. @ Ry Bread, you'd be so proud.
> 
> If you are at all familiar with my writing, I'll tell you that this is the good part. Take a guess as to what comes next.


	8. The World Is Spinning Too Fast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay, I'm sorry this took ten years, but here it is, finally !!
> 
> So much love to all of you that still take the time to read this fic and all the kind comments ya'll left me about my broken hand. Surgery went well and it is healing nicely, but I still got a couple weeks till it's back at typing capability, so hang in there with me. Thank you all so much for your support.
> 
> A million thanks to Ryan for sitting on google docs and FaceTime with me for 10+ hours and pretty much typing this whole chapter for me. Really, this was a long one and a hard one and he's the only reason shit got done, so thank you thank you thank you. Despite being a pain in the ass and wanting to change my story around and everything I told him to type, I couldn't have done it without him and I love you dearly, Ry bread. (Also say a prayer for the two of us because we will be in Paris together on Friday, aka the city of Triles and I will be very emo !!)
> 
> I hope you feel something.

There was fumbling across the room- banging, dresser drawers opening and closing, rummaging, the sound of shorts being yanked over legs, hands patting frantically at empty pockets, and a frustrated muttered, “Fuck.”

Tristan sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes, letting his pupils adjust to the light filtering in through the balcony windows, before landing on Miles standing past the foot of the bed, hands shaking as they scrambled over the top of the dresser, knocking over deodorant and flinging strewn clothes, searching for something- _anything._

Tristan frowned, totally and utterly confused, his forehead creasing because this wasn’t the way he expected waking up after a night like last night.

_After a night as good as last night._

“Fuck!” Miles cursed again under his breath, patting his pockets again and bringing a hand up to run through his tousled hair and tug upsettingly at the strands, completely oblivious to Tristan’s awakening.

“Miles-” Tristan started warily.

Miles turned abruptly at the sound of his name and met Tristan’s concerned gaze, before glancing just as quickly away, moving to pick up another pair of discarded shorts on the ground and dig through those pockets instead. His whole body was shaking.

Tristan pushed the sticky sheets away from his chest. It suddenly felt overly hot in the room.

“Miles, what’s wrong? What are you looking for?”

“Fuck! Where is it?” Miles was muttering to himself, searching through more dirty laundry that was piled in the corner, not listening.

“Hey, slow down.” Tristan scrambled out of bed, starting towards Miles. 

_Something was wrong._

“Hey,” Tristan reached for his arm and Miles flinched- flinched so hard that Tristan immediately pulled his hand back, a small gasp escaping his lips in surprise because Miles knew it was Tristan. He knew who was touching him. Tristan felt sick.

Miles looked over his shoulder at him, green eyes wide and scared, and a flicker of guilt across his expression. “What’s wrong?” Tristan asked softly- so softly- barely a whisper. 

_What the hell was wrong?_

“I uh- I can’t find my stash,” Miles mumbled, looking down, away, anywhere but at the other boy in the room.

Tristan frowned deeper, eyebrows furrowing together because nothing made sense. There were dark bags under Miles’ eyes like he hadn’t slept, like he’d been up all night after Tristan had fallen back asleep, but doing what? Tristan wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

He reached out again slowly- so slowly- watching for any sign that Miles would flinch away again, but he didn’t. Tristan’s fingers brushed the dark skin under Miles’ eye softly before moving to push back the strand of hair that had fallen into his eyes and cradling his face.

Miles finally looked at him, eyes lost and hands fidgeting helplessly at his sides.

“Miles-” Tristan breathed.

Miles stiffened, bringing his hand up to gently nudge Tristan’s away before turning back towards the clothes he was sorting through. “I need to smoke,” he grunted.

Tristan stepped back defeated, letting his hand fall weakly back to his side. “Okay,” he relented. He tried to stop his mind from going to fretful, heartbreaking places.

Miles searched anxiously for another moment, Tristan just standing there watching him stupidly, until the brunette came up with a Ziploc bag stuffed with weed and a sigh of relief.

He brushed past Tristan’s shoulder, heading towards the door, and Tristan never burned so badly.

Tristan stared at the ground blankly for a second, thoughts racing, yet not comprehending a single thing that sped through his head. “Miles, wait-” He turned to follow the brunette, eyes pleading, but his feet were for some reason planted, unmoving.

Miles froze with his hand on the doorknob, Tristan watching his shoulders rise and fall with undeniable tension.

Miles let his hand slip from the doorknob as he turned back around to meet Tristan’s hurting gaze, to gape wordlessly at him, eyebrows knitting together and expression withering away to something like guilt.

Tristan didn’t know what to say, couldn’t find the words to ask what his mind was yelling at him to. He didn’t know what the hell was happening between them anymore. They felt worlds apart at that moment.

Miles suddenly started forward, closing the distance, bringing his hand not holding his stash up to the back of Tristan’s neck to pull him forward for their lips to meet hastily.

Their chests bumped together and the kiss was crushing, in what Tristan hoped would be with relief was instead just more of that tight feeling.

Miles kissed him like it was their last. He kissed him like this was the one that mattered- like this was the one he’d remember him by. He kissed him imperfectly, lips parting in that same desperate manner from last night, but something was so different. It was desperate, but it was frantic and hopeless. It was the hard press of parted mouths, fighting desperately to catch their breaths, but Miles wasn’t letting them. He was stealing- stealing Tristan’s breath and heart, his train of thought and any sense of certainty. It was lip-biting and pushing and pulling each other closer, but somehow, they still felt so far apart.

Tristan’s hands fisted in the back of Miles’ hair, trying to hold on, trying to get him to slow down, but it was pointless.

When Tristan tried to deepen the kiss, Miles pulled back completely, eyes remaining closed, until they opened and landed on Tristan, cold and numbing.

Tristan ignored his conscious fighting with him that something about this felt like a goodbye.

It _couldn’t_ be.

Tristan stared at the boy he was utterly in love with, at his brown locks of hair that were sticking up in every which way as a result of Tristan’s fingers pulling, at the soft red marks left along his neck and collarbone from Tristan’s lips last night, at his bright green eyes that Tristan could lose himself for hours in, and he felt the rocky breathing of his own heart.

They’d finally connected yesterday. They’d finally been on the same page for the first time since arriving at the lake house. For the first time all week, he’d trusted his instincts regarding Miles. He’d trusted that none of this was one-sided. So why would he start to doubt things now?

They stared at each other and they both fought to catch their breath as Tristan’s heart ricocheted inside his chest.

Miles was lost deep in his own thoughts- Tristan could tell- doe eyes blank and unreadable, lips pursed.

He needed to pull him back. He needed to let that inkling go that something was wrong between them. Nothing could be wrong when last night was so seamless.

Tristan watched him, trying his hardest to believe that there was nothing to it- that Miles was just grumpy and still hurting over what happened between him and his father and needed to get baked to calm his thoughts down and forget about the abuse- but he worried. He worried there was something else hiding behind those sleep-deprived eyes and he was scared of it.

Miles blinked out of it after a moment, eyes refocusing on Tristan and he moved in to kiss him again, this time so gently, so delicately, hand framing his face warmly. The kiss was barely there. His hands were shaking, chapped lips shuddering. It was such a contrast to the push and pull of their previous kiss, yet it was just as breathtaking, if not more.

Tristan couldn’t move, and when Miles pulled back, he turned and left the room without a second glance.

Tristan’s heart trembled painfully inside his chest.

He gaped at the closed door for a while before finally moving back to collapse on the bed, left to overthink everything in their sheets that still smelled like sex.

Yesterday had been so much like a dream, so much like something Tristan’s brain had fantasized about, but it had been real. Every touch, every kiss, every toe-curling moan had been absolutely real and if Tristan was sure about one thing, it was _that_. Miles could fake kissing in front of his family, and holding hands on the docks, and the idea that they were in this long lasting relationship, but he couldn’t fake the feelings they shared last night. Tristan was sure of it.

So, where he was left alone to overthink how this whole morning started and the dissimilar ways Miles was acting, Tristan tried his hardest not to question how the brunette felt about him. Tristan had the memories that the bed sheets stirred from yesterday to reassure him that deep down Miles felt something for him- that he _liked_ him- and Tristan was going to do everything in his power to hold onto that assurance until they found the time to talk.

Requited feelings were something new for Tristan, something he wasn’t familiar with especially with a guy like Miles, so he figured he could brush that uncertain feeling off as him just being overly cautious, because maybe Miles loved him and maybe he was agitated for some other reason and there was really no reason for Tristan to worry. And as long as Miles was feeling better after his smoke, Tristan had hope that things would return to normal between them- or rather their new kind of normal, the normal where their shared feelings were reality.

Tristan finally dragged himself from bed- after sending Zoë a lengthy text message detailing everything that had happened over the course of yesterday- and hit the bathroom to shower and get ready for the day, heart light in his chest.

 

When Tristan finally emerged from the bedroom a half hour later, heading downstairs and outside, he found the brunette on a float in the pool with a blunt dangling between his lips, talking with Winston. 

The girls were sprawled out in lounge chairs under the sun, flipping through magazines and listening to music. Frankie sat up and took off her sunglasses when she heard him approaching.

“Long time, no see, Tristan. We missed you yesterday,” Frankie said, smirking knowingly at him and Tristan felt a blush rise to his cheeks.

He chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah, sorry… a lot happened yesterday.” And wasn’t that the truth. His voice trailed off as his eyes flickered to Miles, but he couldn’t tell if the other boy was looking at him with his Ray Bans on, however his conversation with Winston had teetered off completely.

He watched Miles pull the blunt away from his lips and blow smoke into the air, Chewy coughing dramatically when the smoke wafted over into his face where he was perched on the ledge with his feet in the water, back to the girls.

Tristan pried his eyes away from Miles and took the empty seat next to Frankie, rubbing at his nose to hide his red cheeks.

“You missed Winston nearly barfing after he got Iced last night. It was hilarious!” Frankie laughed, and Winston answered wordlessly by holding up his middle finger behind him.

Tristan faked a chuckle, eyes back on Miles who was taking another long hit, lips tight around the blunt. “Yeah, I’m sure that was something.”

“Well, don’t worry about missing out too much. We’re having another beer pong tournament tonight and you and Miles need to defend your title,” Shay spoke up.

“Yeah, Winston and I want a rematch,” Frankie whined and Lola giggled excitedly next to her, clapping her hands together like a child.

Tristan looked over at the girls and grinned mischievously. “Of course.” He glanced back to Miles who was twirling the blunt between his thumb and index finger and called out, “Babe, what do you say?”

“Hm?” Miles looked up, sounding disinterested already.

Tristan swallowed, telling himself that everything was okay, that Miles and him were okay, that something else was bothering him, not Tristan. “Wanna kick some more ass in beer pong tonight?”

There was a long pause, and everyone had turned to look at Miles expectantly.

“Whatever,” Miles muttered, sticking the blunt back between his lips.

Tristan’s heart picked up in his chest.

_Tell me what you want, what you really really want._  
_I ain't got time, if you think that you're in love, with me._  
_So tell me what you want from me, oh._  
_I ain't got time, if you really wanna fuck._  
_You're bitching all the time, that you never get enough from me._  
_So tell me what you want from me, oh._

Everyone else had turned away impartial to his response and the girls’ conversation had picked right back up, Winston moving from his spot by the pool to sit at the end of Frankie’s lounger and argue beer pong strategy with her.

Tristan continued to stare at Miles, watching him smoke and he wasn’t really sure if Miles was staring back, but he thought he felt his gaze heavy on his skin behind those sunglasses. It was then Tristan really seemed to notice the music playing through the outdoor speakers, the lyrics to the rap song hitting him for some reason like a painful jab to the ribs.

_Girl, we can get it on tonight._  
_If you do that little thing I like._  
_I don't want to fall in love._  
_Because I'm only here for the night._

The back door slid open, and the sound of heels on the patio echoed as Mrs. Hollingsworth approached the pool with a tray of muffins for breakfast, breaking Tristan’s attention. She greeted everyone, setting the tray down on the table between the lounge chairs and turned around, placing her hands on her hips as her eyes landed on her eldest son floating- and smoking- in the pool.

“Miles, get rid of that right now before your father sees,” she demanded, Tristan’s hands tightening around the arms of his chair, immediately on edge with the mention of Mr. Hollingsworth and recalling everything that had happened yesterday.

Miles looked up at her challengingly, twirling the blunt once again between his fingers before raising it to his mouth for another puff.

“Now!” she bellowed and Tristan glanced around at the girls and Winston, but none of them seemed the littlest bit deterred by the interchange between Miles and his mother, instead more focused on eating their muffins.

_She said I love you more than words can say._  
_She said I love you bayayayayby._

The song had changed. Tristan’s heart was pounding inside his chest.

Miles huffed loudly and pitched the roach right into the pool, earning a snort from Winston and a scowl from his mother. 

_So I said, what you saying girl it cant be right._  
_How can you be in love with me?_  
_We only just met tonight._  
_So she said boy I loved you from the start._  
_When I first heard love goes down,_  
_Something started burning in my heart._  
_I said stop this crazy talk._  
_And leave right now and close the door._  
_She said but I love you boy I love you so._

“Keep acting this way and you’re going to hear it from your father,” Diana said matter-of-factly, shaking her head and walking back towards the patio to clean up the mess of cans and bottles the others had made last night.

“What else is new?” Miles muttered sarcastically under his breath, hopping off the float in the pool with a splash and swimming towards the steps leading out of the chlorine. Tristan’s breath hitched.

_You don't know what love is._  
_You wouldn't do this if you did._

Tristan watched Miles climb out of the pool, grabbing a towel that was on a spare chair at the far end of the pool area to dry himself off and run it through his dripping hair. He picked up his phone that had been lying underneath the towel, pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head and unlocking it. The song changed again.

_Second guess these words of mine._  
_I always thought that I'd be fine with you._  
_But ever since we crossed that line._  
_Got your green eyes in the back of my mind, its true._

Tristan’s throat started to sting. He didn’t know why.

_But I can't be just friends._  
_You're messing with my head._  
_And I know what I said._  
_But, these feelings they keep running the red._

He knew why. 

They were just lyrics, but he had this horrible, sinking feeling that they _weren’t_.

_I got your heart on my mind._  
_And you said, that I could come by anytime._

Nothing made sense, but maybe things were painfully starting to. 

_But I can’t, I can’t fall in love tonight._  
_I can’t fall in love tonight._

Miles was trying to push him away.

“Who- who has the aux?” Tristan managed to choke out, glancing towards the others and interrupting their conversation. He already knew.

_I got, your face on my mind and,_  
_It was fun, running around for awhile._

“Oh, Miles is hooked up by Bluetooth,” Frankie told him.

Tristan looked back to Miles and his heart broke. 

_But I can't, I can't fall in love tonight._

Miles finally looked up from his phone, green bloodshot eyes landing on him.

_I can't fall in love tonight._

Tristan burned. He wanted to scream at him to turn it off, because it wasn’t true. None of the lyrics were true, not for them. 

But he didn’t. He couldn’t find his voice over the tearing in his chest.

The glass door slid open again, this time roughly, and Mr. Hollingsworth bounded out onto the patio to join his wife, thankfully not sparing the pool a glance and instead chatting quietly with her only, but he still couldn’t have had worse timing.

Miles dropped his gaze, fumbling with his phone, shoulders tense anyways with the reappearance of his father.

Miles and Tristan needed to talk. They needed to get away from his family. They needed to fix whatever doubts Miles was currently having about the two of them, because they were meant to be together. Tristan knew that.

 _This_ wasn’t happening. Tristan wouldn’t let it.

He sniffed and pushed up from his chair, walking the short way towards Miles.

“Hey, let’s go talk,” Tristan said lowly when he reached him. He knew better than to try and touch him. He probably wouldn’t be able to stand Miles flinching away from him again.

Miles rocked back on the heels of his feet, exhaling loudly, smelling faintly of chlorine and weed. “No, I’m good here.”

Tristan scowled, biting his lip nervously, trying to find his breath- his confidence. “No, we need to talk.”

Miles looked at him and for the first time ever, his face was hard directed at Tristan. “I don’t feel like talking,” he bit, a little too loudly.

Tristan could feel the eyes of everyone outside turn to them, including his parents.

“Miles,” Tristan warned under his breath, grinding his teeth, his heart aching horridly. He felt like crying.

“Hey, are you guys fighting or something?” Winston called over to them, voice sounding rather amused. “You should be nice to your boyfriend, Miles,” he chastised and Tristan wished he would shut the hell up for once.

Tristan saw something flicker in Miles’ eyes, something like a sting of hurt and then Miles huffed a breath and grimaced, shaking his head. “He’s not my boyfriend,” he replied definitely.

Tristan’s eyes widened, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead and mouth dropping open because _Miles wasn’t about to do this_. Tristan’s stomach had sunk completely to his feet.

Winston laughed uncomfortably, looking between the two of them. “What?” he asked confused, unsure if he heard his best friend correctly.

Tristan saw Miles turn towards the others, and grabbed his shoulder to try to stop him, dread thick running through his veins.

“Miles, what are you doing? Don’t-”

He knew what was coming, and once Miles opened his mouth, there would be no way to stop him.

Miles yanked his arm away and looked back at Tristan with a falsely entertained expression. 

“What? You wanted to talk, Tris. So let’s talk,” he sneered. “I’m done pretending.”

Tristan felt his heart pulsing heavily in his head.

“Did you guys break up or something?” Lola questioned, squinting at them with her head tilted, that same confusion mirrored on each and every one of their faces, right down to Mr. Hollingsworth’s. 

Tristan thought he would throw up right then and there.

Miles turned back towards them. “No,” he shook his head, laughing sort of manically to himself, throwing out his hands dramatically. Tristan felt nauseous. “None of this is real. None of it was ever real. He’s not my boyfriend! He never was my boyfriend!” Miles chuckled dryly, shaking his head again. “This was all just one big joke.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Miles?” Frankie stood up from her lounge chair, stepping towards her stoned brother, frowning and confused.

“The truth is, I convinced Tristan to be my fake boyfriend for the week.”

And there it was. Miles was coming clean about everything.

“And you all bought it,” Miles laughed humorlessly. “I mean, I didn’t even know his name a week ago.” Tristan was shaking. He couldn’t find his voice to tell him to stop.

“Why would you do something like that?” Frankie was looking between the both of them, disbelieving. Tristan couldn’t meet her eyes. 

He felt tears clinging to his eyelids and he couldn’t watch the distrust rising onto her expression when he was also experiencing it himself. They’d both thought his relationship with Miles was real. They’d both been fooled.

Tristan looked over at Winston instead, who was gawking at him, an expression of nothing but shock and pity. He blinked at him. Why would Winston be surprised when he’d guessed the truth since the beginning? None of this made sense.

Miles laughed again and Tristan looked back at him to see the glint in his eyes as he turned to face the patio where his parents were standing, watching their son’s outburst for once silently. “Because I knew it’d piss off dad, Franks. Like you always say, that’s all I care about doing.” Miles grinned menacingly at his father.

“Miles, stop,” Tristan croaked. He couldn’t take another moment of listening to this. He felt like he was crumbling to pieces. He was sure he actually was.

Miles turned back to him, fire in his bloodshot eyes. “What? You’re not enjoying the show?” he scoffed. “Isn’t that why you came here, Tris? To watch my life like some-”

“Enough, Miles,” Mr. Hollingsworth interrupted him, voice rough and angry. Miles shut up.

“You know that’s not true,” Tristan whispered, wiping at his eyes and trying to stop his ragged breathing. He stared at the blurry hickeys splotching Miles’ chest.

Miles scoffed again and shrugged his shoulders, tossing the damp towel on the empty chair behind him. “I’m done here, anyway.”

He made his way across the patio, shouldering past his dad who made a reach for him, but Diana somehow for once managed to hold her husband back. Miles tore open the back door, and slammed it behind him, leaving silence behind except for Mr. and Mrs. Hollingsworth grumbling amongst each other.

Tristan was frozen. He sniffed and cleared the tears from his eyes again with the back of his hand. He finally looked at the girls and Winston who were all gaping at him.

“Tristan-” Frankie started.

“Are you gonna-” Winston tried.

“You’re not-” Lola squinted.

And then the voice of reason.

“Go,” Shay told him, tilting her head insistently in the direction of the back door where Miles had just disappeared through and Tristan nodded.

He jogged towards the back door, wiping his eyes again, sliding the glass door open and not even bothering to close it behind him, calling out Miles’ name as he scanned the kitchen and living room, heart in his throat.

He bumped into Hunter as he turned the corner of the stairs, dodging him and ignoring the other’s, “Hey, watch it!” followed by, “What the hell is going on?”

Tristan took the stairs two at a time, nearly tripping and catching himself on the mantel, pushing open the closed door of their bedroom when he reached it and meeting Miles pacing the room, scrubbing his hands upsettingly down his face.

“Why’d you do that?” Tristan asked, wanting to sound angry, but just sounding broken.

He expected the same hard front Miles had put on outside. He wasn’t ready for the torn up expression, the earnest green eyes brimming with tears, the trembling lips and the feeling that something was crushing him as Miles turned to look at him.

“What did you expect?” Miles asked weakly, eyes pleading.

Tristan swallowed thickly, feeling the tears threatening to escape at any moment. He took a shaky breath.

“If you wanted to come clean to your family about lying, that’s fine. But-”

Tristan took a step forward and Miles took a step back, holding out a hand to stop him.

“But, what, Tristan? What did you think was going to happen? Did you think we’d fall in love or something?” There was water collecting in those emerald eyes and Miles’ voice sounded just past hysterical.

Tristan’s bottom lip quivered. He felt his heart was being ripped in two.

“No- I just-” Tristan felt the hot tears hit his cheeks. He couldn’t look away from Miles, no matter how much he wanted to. He was in love. _They_ were in love. “Yesterday you- we- that wasn’t us pretending!” Tristan choked out.

Miles shook his head and Tristan stepped forward again, begging for anything that told him he hadn’t imagined what he felt yesterday- the connection they shared.

“Miles, you- we kissed- we slept together. I know what I felt. I know you felt it, too!”

Miles was shaking his head frantically, panic in his eyes. Tristan reached for his hand and Miles pulled away, locking his jaw.

“No, Tristan- you’re wrong!”

Tristan wiped at his face quickly, gasping for air. He couldn’t breathe. “I know you’re scared, Miles. It’s okay-”

“I’m not gay!” Miles’ voice broke and his eyes were shining with tears.

“I never said you were! You don’t have to be- it’s okay!” Tristan sucked in a breath, holding back a sob. “I’m just saying when we’re together, you feel something for me!”

“No.” Miles shook his head, and somehow Tristan’s heart broke impossibly more, feeling beyond heavy and unbearable in his chest. “No, I’m sorry, Tris.”

“You like me, Miles! Just admit it!”

“No, I’m sorry-”

“What about yesterday? You weren’t in front of your family, Miles! You weren’t just faking it!” Tristan yelled through his tears, begging for honesty.

Miles kept shaking his head, blinking back the emotion on the brink of spilling out of him. “We were just having fun,” he said and it finally hit Tristan like a ton of heart-wrenching bricks. “It was all just for fun.”

That was what Miles had said when he first walked into Tristan’s dorm room a week ago with this crazy proposition of fake dating. He’d promised it would be fun.

“Did yesterday mean anything to you?” Tristan asked quietly, his last cry.

Miles continued to shake his head, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed hard. “I’m sorry,” he croaked.

Tristan took a step backwards, eyes wide and unrecognizable as he stared at Miles, because he didn’t know who he was anymore, or perhaps he never did. Miles was no longer the person he thought he was and he probably never was to begin with.

Nothing about this was fun.

Tristan sniffed and wiped his eyes, feeling foolish and vulnerable, and so very heartbroken. Everything inside him hurt. He shook his head sadly because how could he be so stupid?

“I need to go,” Tristan realized softly.

“What? Go where?” Miles asked, hands still trembling at his sides, face looking half-crazed by now, but that was probably just because he was high.

Tristan dropped his gaze to the hardwood floor between them. “Home,” Tristan whispered, furrowing his eyebrows and frowning. “Or back to school.” Spring break was over anyways.

“We don’t have to leave till Sunday,” Miles said, voice sounding far away and off-kilter.

Tristan felt the need to scoff, but he didn’t. “Well, I guess I’m going back early.”

“Tris, you don’t-” Miles’ voice cracked and he sucked in a breath and sniffed before continuing. “You don’t have to leave. Please-”

Tristan looked back up, trying not to tear up again, feeling angry and just plain devastated. It was all too painful. “I can’t even look at you.” 

Tristan looked away and his mouth tasted like metal. He needed to pack and get out of here. He turned towards his duffel bag that was sitting open on the ground next to the dresser, and he began stuffing it with whatever of his things he could find.

Miles sounded like he was crying now. “I never meant for this to happen, Tris. I never wanted to hurt you. You weren’t- you weren’t supposed to fall for me.”

More tears rolled silently down Tristan’s cheeks as he continued packing his clothes. He didn’t want to fight anymore, but he had to ask- he had to know- weak and tired, “How could I not?”

Miles didn’t say anything for a while; just stood there and watched Tristan pack his things, the only sound being both of their unsteady breathings.

“Let me drive you to the airport at least. You can take the private jet back.”

Tristan shook his head, standing up to grab stuff off the top of the dresser and bedside table to drop in his bag. He walked into the bathroom to get his toothbrush. He felt like he was suffocating.

“No- I’ll just- I’ll Uber to the airport and catch a flight from there. I don’t need your help,” he said as he came out of the bathroom and turned back to his duffel bag. “You’ve done enough,” he mumbled.

“Tristan-”

“I said no, Miles!” he snapped and Miles went quiet. Tristan took another shaky breath, closing his eyes and trying his damnedest to push back his emotions until he was out of this godforsaken lake house. 

“I’m sorry,” Miles breathed and Tristan opened his eyes to pull his phone from his pocket and request an Uber.

_Six minutes away._

He wasn’t sorry.

Tristan zipped up his bag and stood from the ground, swinging the strap over his shoulder. He turned to face Miles for the last time.

The brunette had a flushed face and puffy red-rimmed eyes, and Tristan imagined he looked the same, or probably worse. Miles had the nerve to offer his one last small, sad smile, and Tristan felt his eyes immediately welling with more tears.

“When I- when I get back to school- we’ll still be friends, right?” Miles’ voice was thick with emotion and groggy, and Tristan hated that sense of hope still there, because Tristan had hope all along and look where that got him. “After all of this passes,” Miles breathed. “We’ll still be friends, right?”

Tristan felt the torture in his heart, the urge to pull the brunette into his arms and tell him of course, that everything would be fine between them, given time. But, unfortunately that wasn’t the truth, and Tristan had been hit with a lot of truths today, so what was one more? This was the end of any relationship he’d have with Miles Hollingsworth.

Tristan cleared his throat, wanting it to come out steady, despite everything else trembling inside him. “When you get back to school, you can forget you ever fell into my lap at that stupid pregame,” Tristan said firmly, heart cracking with each word. “And we can forget about this whole week and just go back to pretending we don’t know each other.” Tristan’s voice started to waver and his vision was blurry, but he bit his tongue and uttered one last thing. “It should be easy since we both know how good you are at pretending.”

Miles opened his mouth, green eyes pained as they looked at Tristan, but nothing came.

So, Tristan took one last breath, turned around and left the room. He said goodbye to Miles Hollingsworth.

He practically ran downstairs, stuffing his shoes on that were waiting by the front door. He didn’t want to see anyone else. He wanted to get as far away from this lake house before he lost it.

Tristan clambered out the front door and down the front steps of the porch, jogging down the walkway leading up to the lake house and through the tall gate at the end of the driveway, to the Uber that was waiting on the side of the street. He opened up the car door, and slid into the back seat, shutting it tightly behind him.

The driver turned around in his seat and gave Tristan a once over as he caught his breath and what was left of his bearings. Tristan was too heartbroken to care about his disheveled state.

“Heading to the airport?” the driver asked warily.

Tristan nodded, settling back and curling in on himself, turning his head to look out the window one last time.

He took in the light blue mansion, the large white balconies, the pretty greenery, and the lake in the distance- clear and beautiful as ever. He took in the memories, the vision of Miles, his green eyes and bright smile and every waking minute he’d spent with him at this lake house over the past week, every touch and laugh they shared.

Tristan tucked his head into his arm and closed his eyes tightly, ignoring the tears that sprung to the surface as he did so, drowning everything out with the music playing from the car radio. If he had the energy, he’d ask the driver to turn it louder.

_I’ve been on the low._  
_I been taking my time._  
_I feel like I’m out of my mind._  
_I feel like my life ain’t mine._

He tried to forget. He couldn’t.

_I don’t wanna be alive._  
_I don’t wanna be alive._  
_I just wanna die today._  
_I just wanna die._  
_And let me tell you why._

The car drove away.

 

The airport was a noisy and crowded blur.

Tristan was numb purchasing his plane ticket, numb as he went through security, numb as he waited for hours outside his terminal.

He thought he should probably eat something, but felt too sick to even try to.

His day couldn’t possibly get any worse and Tristan just wanted to be alone in his dorm room already, wrapped up in blankets and able to cry himself to sleep, not having to put up with the hustle and bustle of traveling.

Despite everything, Tristan had miraculously managed to keep his emotions at bay while at the airport, not even capable of finding the will to break down in front of so many strangers, but that didn’t stop him from thinking about every single thing that had gone wrong in the past six hours and didn’t stop him from feeling every single twitch of agony in his demolished heart that was brought on from those particular thoughts.

The worst part was feeling like he imagined everything.

The worst part was that he was still in love.

The worse part was that he could not shut his mind off and had to relive every single memory he had of Miles, which was a lot even considering they only knew each other a week.

A fucking lot could happen in one week.

It was a relief when Tristan was able to board the plane and it finally took off, putting more and more miles between Tristan and the memories of spring break and lake Ontario. He didn’t want to think about it, but it was impossible not to.

Tristan tried to tune out the people around him in the airplane, slumped against the window in his worn out coach seat and ignoring the lack of legroom and the bratty kid that kept kicking his seat behind him.

He was miserable and annoyed and on the verge of bursting into tears at any waking second. His neighbor sitting next to him, a frail old lady with greying hair that kept peaking at him warily out of the corner of her eye, probably thought he’d explode during the plane ride with everything he was clearly bottling up inside him.

Tristan just prayed that explosion could wait till he was alone and in the safety of his own dorm room.

As the plane finished ascending, Tristan dug his phone out of his pocket and nearly choked at the amount of text messages he’d received prior to take off, making him feel even queasier.

Unfortunately, they were all from Zoë, responding to Tristan’s earlier text about him and Miles getting together. Clearly a lot had changed since then.

Tristan deleted her messages without even reading them. He couldn’t handle reading her surprise and enthusiasm. He was aching enough.

As much as he loved his best friend and usually went to her for everything, this type of heartbreak was meant to be dealt with alone.

Tristan untangled his ear buds, plugged them into his phone and stuck them in his ears. He turned on shuffle and closed his eyes, temple resting against the clouded window, preparing himself to feel. He listened for a minute.

_I found peace in your violence._  
_Can't tell me there's no point in trying._  
_I'm at one, and I've been silent for too long._

The beat dropped and Tristan cracked his eyes back open, hand tightening around his phone. He sucked in a breath. Yeah, _no_.

He changed to the next song, leaning back against the window and shutting his eyes again.

_I am not the only traveler,_  
_Who has not repaid his debt._  
_I've been searching for a trail to follow again._  
_Take me back to the night we met._

_And then I can tell myself,_  
_What the hell I'm supposed to do._  
_And then I can tell myself,_  
_Not to ride along with you._

Tristan brushed the tears away before they could fall.

_I had all and then most of you,_  
_Some and now none of you._  
_Take me back to the night we met._  
_I don't know what I'm supposed to do,_  
_Haunted by the ghost of you._  
_Oh, take me back to the night we met._

 

It was dark by the time Tristan finally made it to his dorm building on campus, emotionally exhausted and just as _wrecked_ as he was when he left the lake house.

He rode the elevator up to his floor, arm shifting his duffel bag on his shoulder, tapping his foot with a throat still thick with tears.

He walked down the empty hallway, everything eerily, yet comfortingly quiet with most students still away on spring break.

Tristan couldn’t stop his eyes from flickering to Miles’ dorm room across from his. The brunette’s stupid neon nametag that their RA taped on everyone’s doors stuck out like a sore thumb. Tristan shivered and turned towards his own door.

It took a while for him to locate his key, which was somewhere buried in the pocket of his bag.

When he finally found it, he unlocked the door.

Tristan stepped in and was met with a figure sitting on his roommate’s bed, jumping in surprise, having not been expecting anybody to be here. His heartbeat picked up. He was in no mood to see anyone.

His roommate looked up from his laptop screen, shock and amusement on his face from startling Tristan, until he got a better look at him.

“Shit, Tristan, what’s happened?” Josh pushed his laptop off his lap, sliding off his bed and onto his feet.

Tristan couldn’t even imagine how drained and heartbroken he looked if Josh of all people took notice.

Tristan sighed and stepped into their room, kicking the door shut behind him. He threw his duffel back to the floor and rubbed at his stinging eyes.

“What are you doing here?” he groaned.

“I got back from Miami this morning,” Josh explained, sounding confused. “What are _you_ doing here? What the fuck happened? You look like shit.”

Tristan gave a dull scoff, his roommate being blunt and charming as ever. He turned his burning eyes to him and offered a shrug and a shake of his head.

“I fell for him. That’s what happened,” he said sadly and in the end, that’s really all there was to it. He loved Miles and Miles would never love him back, no matter what they had shared together. 

Tristan had known this would happen from the beginning. He just hadn’t known how fucking bad it would actually hurt.

Understanding washed across Josh’s face immediately, expression turning from confusion to honest sympathy. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Tristan.”

Tristan nodded and went about changing his clothes. He wouldn’t say it was okay. It really wasn’t.

“Hollingsworth is a jackass. You don’t need him. You deserve better than that shit. Hey, I’ll help you find a nice piece of ass to rebound with and you won’t even remember that fucker exists.” 

Tristan hummed noncommittally, pulling on a clean hoodie- one that didn’t smell like Miles. He didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to think about it.

“I’ll even kick his ass for you when I see him. I got your back,” Josh went on.

Tristan forced a laugh without much liveliness and moved towards his bed. “I don’t think that’s necessary,” he told him dryly, ignoring Josh grumbling on more about the situation. “I think I just want to sleep.”

“Yeah, okay,” Josh nodded, and Tristan pulled his covers back and lied down on his side, curling up in the warmth of his own bed. “You want the lights off?”

“Sure.”

He watched his roommate fumble across the room, tripping over dirty clothes, to flick the light switch. The room went dark except for the glow of Josh’s bedside lamp. Josh resituated himself on his bed with his laptop, scrolling through the Internet. Tristan didn’t close his eyes.

It was quiet for a long while, Tristan thinking and feeling and hurting, before he spoke, voice quiet and cracking through blurry vision.

“You know what hurts?”

Josh looked up at him, empathy flashing across his face. 

“Missing someone you never even had,” Tristan whispered into the dark room.

Josh sighed and watched his best friend crumble with a solid and honest gaze that Tristan desperately needed to grasp onto. 

His roommate gave him a small, sad smile that only reminded Tristan of the one Miles gave him before he walked out. Tristan’s chest burned in the worst way possible.

“I’m here for you, buddy, if you need anything.”

Tristan rolled over in bed, pulling the comforter over his head, and let himself break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's ready for some long overdue Miles POV?
> 
> Here's the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/pj6379/playlist/4UwNvfnp7pzpjSovo8FkGD).
> 
> Come yell at me to update, I'm [smileshollingsworth](http://smileshollingsworth.tumblr.com) on tumblr!


	9. Just A Little Bit Better At Faking It Than Me, Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, surprise.  
> Triles is alive and well and so am I.  
> Miles POV, in case you're confused.

Miles’ worst habit was his inability to recognize when he’d taken something too far.

He was well aware of it; however as often as it happened, it was always too late when he finally realized he’d lost control of his actions in these reoccurring issues.

And no, he wasn’t referring to bad jokes or his crude sense of humor. This was about his inexplicable need to draw things out, the unexplainable way he acted in order to make something last.

But, he was being naïve to think anything in his life ever lasted in the first place.

So, because he wanted something to happen- and with the way his brain was wired, because he needed to feel like that something actually mattered- Miles always skipped the right way to go about things. He went from zero to one hundred and somebody always seemed to get hurt in the process.

But, what was so _new_ \- what was so different about this time- was how much Miles had hurt himself instead. He’d lost sight of his end goal long before spring break had even started.

So, where Miles was left staring at an empty doorway with a vacant heart and overflowing eyes and so much misunderstanding, he had one overbearing, soul-crushing realization. 

He’d fucked up.

He’d taken things way too far.

And it didn’t start when he fell into the lap of some unlucky boy at a pregame just a week ago.

It all started eight months ago when he moved into the dorm room across the hall from Tristan Milligan.

 

It started as a simple crush. Maybe it couldn’t even be called a crush, but a longing for a boy he knew nothing about- besides the fact that he lived in the open double directly across the hall from him.

It was an obsession, really- or at least that’s what Miles’ roommate called it- a need to become a part of somebody’s life that Miles had really no reason to.

At first it was just staring at him across the room during floor meetings and making awkward eye contact in the bathroom mirror when they both happened to be rinsing hands at the same time.

And then when Miles made no lead way in the Tristan Milligan situation, other than the occasional hello as they passed each other in the hallway, it turned into something more.

It turned into Miles waiting quietly in his dorm room to hear the door across the hallway open or hear the voice of Tristan bickering with Josh as they approached their room. It turned into Miles leaping out of his bed and entering the hallway at the slightest possibility he’d cross paths with the raven-haired boy. It turned into him studying in the drama building- when he could very much just go to the library- in the chance that he might run into Tristan.

Though, Miles never had much luck. Averted eyes and no chance of conversation was usually what he was met with.

His roommate thought he was crazy- didn’t understand why Miles felt the need to interact with Tristan. What was so special about one boy? Miles never had an answer, not even for himself.

So, as the fall semester came to a close, he started to give up. Miles wasn’t well-established with the act of giving up. He usually didn’t have trouble getting any girl or boy to talk to him. But, how much longer could he go on with pining to talk to someone that never seemed to pay him much attention? 

Wasn’t that all that Miles really wanted in life? Attention?

It was surprising to say the least when he somehow ended up in Tristan’s lap months later. He thought it might as well have been fucking fate or whatever. Drunk off his ass as he was, it took all of Miles’ personal strength not to kiss him right then and there.

And maybe it was just the alcohol- or the weed- but Tristan somehow looked better than ever.

It seemed to Miles that it took physically falling into the other boy’s lap for Tristan to finally- _finally_ \- notice him.

Everything just spiraled from there.

Miles was hooked- hooked on the idea of Tristan. One lie led to another and the next thing he knew he’d convinced the other boy to spend spring break pretending to be his boyfriend- killing two birds with one stone, both Tristan and his father.

Pretending was just another lie he kept telling himself he was doing.

Miles couldn’t place the exact moment he fell in love with Tristan, but what he _could_ place was the moment he realized he had feelings much deeper than some friendship for the blue-eyed boy.

He was drunk off his ass, once again, and holding Tristan up while he blew chunks into the toilet, and something just dawned on him while he watched the discolored alcohol spew out of Tristan’s mouth and splash into the porcelain. 

If anyone else- literally anyone else in the whole entire world- was throwing up in front of him, Miles would probably be the last person there taking care of them.

But, because this was Tristan- Tristan, who was very drunk and sick and needed somebody to take care of him- Miles wasn’t leaving his side. No matter how disgusting and ugly it got, Miles wasn’t leaving him.

So, that’s how he knew. As ungraceful as it was, that was how Miles knew he was falling in love with Tristan. He didn’t know when he started. He just knew he couldn’t stop.

And that was how he knew he was literally and utterly _fucked_.

Because that was never the plan. As faded and disorderly the original plan was, falling in love with Tristan had never been a part of it.

Sure, he’d wanted to spend time with the other boy- had been trying to ever since he laid eyes on him on move-in day. And that all became such a wonderful plus of this plan to piss off his father. But, Miles was never good with relationships, was never good at falling in love and especially not with a boy.

Yet, as fucked as he was, that didn’t stop him. That didn’t stop him from spending more time with Tristan and falling more in love between their talks by the pool and adventures on the lake. Tristan just fit with him- fit with his life and his friends and his siblings. And that was all okay because they were _supposed_ to be acting like a couple and having fun together and pretending to be in this loving relationship. 

So, it was all okay, until it wasn’t. Until the both of them acknowledged that this wasn’t pretend. Until the moment Miles was pinning Tristan to the mattress and kissing him senseless. Until Miles finally realized that all of these feelings he had for the other boy were requited.

And that’s when everything went to shit between them.

Because as good as it was with Tristan, as good as he felt with him, everything became all too real, all too quickly. He wasn’t good enough for Tristan. He could never give the other boy what he deserved. Not with his messed-up life, not with his outrageous behavior, not with his blatant unacceptance of himself, and especially not with his dad.

Therefore, Miles did what he always does. He ran away from his feelings. He pushed away the one person that understood him and could get to him. He broke another heart in addition to his own.

Forget the plan, forget the good things in his life, he needed to go back to what he knew best, which was how to feel worthless. Because he couldn’t win this race. Not when he was already losing since the start.

 

Miles dug the heels of his hands angrily into the sockets of his eyes, the echo of his words and Tristan’s still lingering in the bedroom. Stop crying. _Stop crying._

He’d had it good with Tristan. Never in his life had he had it _so good_.

But, why was it that good things could never last?

Miles sniffed, wiping his eyes and scrubbing his hands roughly down his face until they fell weakly to his sides. He felt raw and damaged and uneasy on his feet. How long had he been standing there crumbling, unmoving? Five seconds? Five minutes? Five hours?

He forced himself to move forward, at least physically, out of the room, because he couldn’t stand another second staring at that emptiness and remembering that feeling of Tristan.

Because that’s all it ever was now, and all it ever would be- a memory.

He’d made a mistake. He’d made a huge fucking mistake.

He needed Tristan.

Miles slammed the door shut behind him as he left the room and his eyes wandered to the noise down the hall, landing on Frankie and Winston who’d seemed to be arguing in the doorway of another bedroom, however their voices quickly tapered off as their gazes shot up to meet his.

“Miles,” Winston started towards him and Miles quickly looked away and bolted for the stairs halfway between them.

“Not in the mood Chewy,” he grumbled, surprised his voice was even working, dodging his best friend. _Not now._

“Miles, wait!” Winston grabbed his arm right before his foot could reach that first step down, pulling him back and Miles cursed internally.

He froze, setting his jaw and glaring back over his shoulder at his best friend and his little sister, who were looking at him like he was a fucking wounded kid or some shit. _Jesus Christ._ But, then again, maybe he was.

Miles flicked his hard gaze annoyingly down to the hand keeping him from running and back up to Winston, his own eyes suddenly betraying him once more as they flooded with that thing he hated calling emotion. He couldn’t keep anything together anymore. It was pathetic.

“Let go of me,” he bit.

He needed to find Tristan. He needed to stop him from leaving. It was such a small thought. It was such a loud feeling.

“No,” Winston shook his head insistently. He wasn’t budging.

“Fucking let go of me!” Miles pulled abruptly away from him, catching himself on the wooden railing before he could go tumbling down the staircase.

“Miles, stop!” Frankie yelled. “He’s gone!”

Miles suddenly couldn’t breathe. He leaned over the mantel, sucking in sharp breaths, staring down at the blurry hardwood floor on the first level. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe.

“Did you hear me? Tristan’s gone! He’s not coming back! He’s gone, Miles!” 

He couldn’t understand. Frankie’s voice sounded like it was underwater. Miles squeezed the wooden mantel tightly with his hands, knuckles white, screwing his eyes shut. _Breathe._

“Will you shut up, Frankie?” Winston said, faraway. He was so far away.

_Fucking breathe._

“Hey, man, are you okay?” There was a hand on his shoulder and Miles flinched stiffly. _Winston’s_ hand. _Winston’s_ voice, gentler than before. He was closer. “Miles, hey, what’s going on? Talk to me.”

He couldn’t talk. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. Miles clutched tighter to the railing, looking down, the floor on the first level falling further and further away from him. He felt like he was going to be sick.

“What’s wrong with him?” Frankie asked. Winston shushed her.

“Miles,” Chewy said again, hand still on his shoulder holding him in place.

Miles sucked in a deep breath and broke away.

“Fuck,” he choked, pushing away from the stairway mantel. He backed up from the edge, feeling dizzy. He brushed past Frankie and escaped into the bedroom they’d been arguing in. He sat down on the plaid bedspread, knees wobbling and eyes burning, fingernails digging into his palms, breathing sharply.

Frankie and Winston were right behind him.

“It’s okay, Miles,” Winston tried to reassure him.

“Stop lying to him!” Frankie refuted.

“It’s _going_ to be okay,” Winston said instead, shooting a warning look at Frankie. Miles stared straight ahead, past the both of them.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Frankie accused.

Winston sighed loudly. “Not now, Frankie.” Miles had a feeling they were picking back up their argument from before. He tried to tune it out with the ringing in his ears.

Frankie shook her head. “Unbelievable! And you didn’t think you should, I don’t know, _tell_ me?”

Winston groaned. “I had my suspicions, yes! But, it’s none of our business.”

“Oh, that’s ironic for you to say considering you’re always in _my_ business!”

Miles wished the bed he was sitting on would swallow him whole. It already felt like the world kind of was.

“-And I’m pretty sure when my brother is lying to me about having a boyfriend, that _is_ kind of my business,” Frankie went on.

“Well not everything is always about you, Frankie,” Winston drawled, rolling his eyes behind those thick rimmed glasses.

Frankie huffed and turned towards Miles. “And you! What the fuck is wrong with you? What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” Miles said. His face was wet.

“You weren’t what?”

“Thinking.” Miles looked up at his little sister, voice barely audible. He was barely there, barely breathing. “I wasn’t _thinking._ ”

“So it was all just fake? This whole week- everything with Tristan- you were faking it? You did everything just to screw with Dad?”

Miles nodded once. His head was heavy. The world felt heavy.

“If it was all fake, then why are you in love with him?”

Something inside him, deep in Miles’ ribs, stung like a motherfucker. He swiped angrily at his eyes. He tried to think.

“You love him,” Frankie said simply.

Miles shook his head. His heart stirred. “Don’t.”

“Why do you always lie to everyone, _including_ yourself?”

“You really think I have an answer to that question?”

“Find one.”

“What do you want me to say?” Miles snapped, more unwelcome tears slipping out. “That I fucked up? That I lost the one person that treats me like I’m actually worth something? That I’m in love with a boy who I can’t ever possibly be with because not only am I incapable of holding a healthy relationship with anyone in my life at this point, but also it would be the last fucking nail in my coffin with dad behind the hammer? Is that what you want to hear?” Miles gasped for breath, eyes bloodshot and frantic, looking between his sister and his best friend and their pitying stares. He dropped his head into his hands. _Get a fucking grip._

Frankie fell silent. Miles hoped she wasn’t crying.

“That’s such bullshit, Miles,” Winston said frustratingly and Miles looked up, eyebrows furrowing together, unsure of what he meant. “For as long as we’ve been friends you’ve always been the brave one. I mean, you aren’t scared of anything.” 

Winston almost sounded humored by what he was saying. He counted on his fingers as he began to list things off. “You were never scared of the horror movies we watched when we were younger. You were never scared of what people at school thought of you. You were never scared of standing up to your father. So, don’t tell me this is what you’re afraid of. Don’t tell me that Tristan is what you’re afraid of.” Winston looked at him, pushing the rim of his glasses up the bridge of his nose and shaking his head defiantly. “Because that’s such bullshit.”

Miles’ scowl deepened. He wanted to defend himself. He wanted to tell Chewy to fuck off- that he wasn’t scared- that he was just sick of fighting- or that maybe, for once in his life he’d earned the right to be afraid, or that really, he’d always been scared of everything and had just never shown it. But, when he opened his mouth, Winston cut him off before he could say anything.

“This whole week, I’ve watched you with him, Miles. I figured right away you brought him here to start something with Mr. H because I’ve known you practically my whole life and I _knew_ if it was anything serious- like you were making it out to be- you would’ve kept him far away from your family.” Winston raised his eyebrows at him in question, asking if he was wrong, and Miles just stared at him blankly until he continued.

“So, it wasn’t really confusing. Even though I didn’t agree with it and I _warned_ you not to go through with this, at least it made sense to me why you were bringing some boy here and claiming to be in love with him. It wasn’t strange watching you with him because I _knew_ you were just putting on a show at first.” Winston gave him a small, sorry smile, and Miles just looked at him, not feeling, not thinking, just listening. It was weird seeing Chewy being serious for once.

“But, when I saw things start to change- when I saw everything quickly start to mean something to you- that was when things started to get confusing as hell,” Winston continued. “I was skeptical because you’ve never shown me that part of you before. And that’s okay, because maybe you’re still figuring it out for yourself. But, I want you to know that none of that matters. As your best friend, I want you to know that you _deserve_ what you had with Tristan. It doesn’t matter who you love-a girl, a boy, a fucking animal- as long as they make you fucking happy.”

Miles sniffed, looking at his best friend, and he wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe that it was that easy- that because Tristan made him feel important for the first time ever in his life that he could just be with him- that they could just run back to school together and be blissfully in love and forget the world around them. But, that wasn’t enough. That could never be enough. No matter how hard he laughed or how fast his heart pounded around the other boy, there would always be weights holding him down, stopping him from getting what he wants or what he deserves.

This wasn’t about believing in a relationship with Tristan. This was about believing in himself. And Miles figured he was long past incapable of doing that.

“I know what I saw Miles and it was _real_ ,” Winston promised him.

“So, what am I supposed to do? He’s gone. It’s too late,” Miles whispered, and it hurt. It hurt so bad knowing what he’d lost and how badly he’d hurt Tristan. Things had never felt right throughout his life, but maybe they had been- as fucked up as that was- for the first time with Tristan.

“Get your shit together, Miles!” Frankie broke her silence next to him.

“Shut up, Frankie!” Winston silenced her. He turned towards his best friend, putting his hands on Miles’ shoulders, shaking him lightly. “Get your shit together, Miles.”

Frankie mumbled exasperatingly next to him.

Miles shook his head, staring at Chewy in front of him. “I can’t,” he said weakly.

“You can,” Winston nodded. “Fuck your dad. You’ve never let him dictate your life before. Why start now?” 

Miles’ eyes were stinging again. Tristan had been through enough. He couldn’t keep putting him through more. Miles took a deep, shaky breath. “Fuck-” The brunette turned away from Winston’s embrace and stood up from the bed, heading towards the door out and blinking back the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “I can’t deal with this right now.”

“You’re going to have to deal with it eventually, Miles,” Frankie said, starting after him again, but she stopped.

“Let him go,” he heard Chewy say behind him. Miles was thankful for his best friend.

 

He didn’t really know where he was going or what he was doing, but Miles found himself out on the dock, staring out at the lake, gasping in the fresh air. Upstairs with everything that had happened- with Tristan and Chewy and Frankie- had been fucking suffocating. He needed to remember how to breathe.

He’d hoped the lake would help, as calming and empty as it was under the bright sun, but it didn’t. His mind kept racing, too fast to comprehend anything, and his body kept hurting. His lungs were itching to be filled with something that could numb. Too bad Miles had smoked his last blunt hours ago.

Lake Ontario was a bad idea, in and of itself, but even just in this moment. Because he could no longer stare out at that clear blue water and not think of cerulean eyes staring back at him. He couldn’t look at that jet ski floating next to the dock and not think of solid arms wrapped around him. He couldn’t watch the cliffs off in the distance and not remember Tristan taking that jump with him.

Miles lowered himself to the smooth wooden planks beneath him and slid his legs over the edge to let his feet dance in the water.

Tristan had left, yet he still felt like he was everywhere- on this lake, and under Miles’ skin, and imbedded in his mind. And Miles wondered where he would be now if Tristan hadn’t fallen into his lap at the stupid party and Miles hadn’t convinced him to follow him here and become a part of his game. Because then maybe Miles wouldn’t feel so lost and heartbroken.

But, deep down he knew he didn’t regret it. He’d forgotten how to love and be loved long ago, and he’d forgotten how much he missed it, till it was right there in front of him.

“Hey, sad boy,” a high-pitched voice called out from behind him, and Miles didn’t jump, didn’t turn around, because it wasn’t the voice he hoped to hear.

He kicked his legs in the water, staring down at the lake as the pad of footsteps grew closer as they neared him on the dock.

“Mind if I join you?”

Miles glanced up, at the blue head of hair smiling down at him and gesturing to the empty space of dock right next to him- a space Tristan had once filled. He rubbed his nose, looking back out at the lake. He’d wanted to be alone, but he didn’t have the energy to say no to her.

“Nah, be my guest,” Miles said dryly, and Lola was quick to take a seat next to him, the energy bubbling off her almost nauseating. “Although, I don’t think I’m good company right now.”

“Nonsense, Miles. You’re always good company.”

Miles hated that she was lying, so he welcomed the silence that fell between them for a few moments.

“So, what are you doing out here all alone?” Lola asked, swishing her bare feet back and forth in the water.

“Well, in case you missed the whole display back there, my boyfriend- who was never _really_ my boyfriend- left.” Miles did his best to ignore the twinge in his chest, the uneasiness in his gut.

Lola hummed thoughtfully. “You know I never thought you were gay,” she said simply, and Miles drew his eyebrows together, focusing intensely on the ripples of water surrounding his feet. “Not that I’d have a problem if you were. I just mean, it doesn’t seem like the person you are. And honestly, it’d be kind of disappointing.”

Miles turned to look at her, Lola’s eyes already on him and had probably never left him since she sat down. Disappointing felt like a harsh word- because usually it had another meaning when applied to him- but he knew what she meant. She’d been fond of him ever since Frankie and she became friends.

“You don’t know the first thing about me,” Miles said bluntly.

Lola laughed, a high-pitched bubble, and looked out at the lake. “Nonsense, I’ve known you for years.”

Miles shook his head, returning his stare to the water as well.

She tried another tactic, one more insinuating. Miles felt her gaze back on him. “Well, let me get to know you, then.”

Miles scoffed lightly. “Trust me. You wouldn’t want to.”

“Of course I would.”

Miles looked back at her, at her wide brown eyes and clear skin and soft smile, and he thought to himself it would be so easy. A relationship with a girl like Lola would be so effortless. She was cute and funny, and maybe not so smart and mature, but she had a big heart. Miles knew that. And it would be easy to lean in and kiss her pink lips right now and fall into a life with her, one his parents would be more consenting of.

But, he didn’t want that. His heart belonged to somebody else, somebody he would probably never have, but that didn’t matter. That didn’t change anything about the person he was and the person he wanted to be. 

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” he said, and her smile faltered, just slightly.

“Because I’m your sister’s best friend?” she asked curiously, and Miles just shook his head, deciding to be honest with somebody for once. “Because you like boys?” she tried again after a pause, the corner of her mouth perking up in a softer smile.

“Because I like a _person_ ,” Miles corrected, watching her nod in understanding and his own words suddenly hit him- in the heart, in the chest, in the being.

He had to _try_. He would never be able to live with himself if he didn’t at least try.

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” Miles said abruptly, already pulling his legs up and splashing water as he pushed to his feet. 

Lola didn’t even look surprised. She giggled quietly and called, “Good luck!” as he hurried down the dock and onto the stony beach.

His mind was set on Tristan. Tristan, Tristan, Tristan. It was always Tristan. It would always be Tristan. Why the fuck did it take him so long to realize?

He slowed just barely when he reached the top of the grassy hill, acknowledging Winston, Frankie and Shay back to hanging out by the pool, music blaring in full spring break spirit.

_One, two, three, come on!_   
_I’ll never be the same, if we ever meet again._   
_Won’t let you get away, said, if we ever meet again._

Miles was stupid. He was a fucking idiot for ever letting Tristan walk away from him. 

_This free fall’s, got me so._   
_Kiss me all night, don’t ever let me go._

He wasn’t going to let this end. Tristan wasn’t just some guy that he drew into his life and was going to let leave without a fight. He’d said so much he didn’t mean, but he’d also said so much he _meant_. Because everything was real up till today. Every word, every touch, every kiss, because Miles felt it in his fucking heart.

_I’ll never be the same._   
_If we ever meet again._

“Where are you going?” Frankie yelled as Miles rushed passed them by the pool.

“To find Tristan.”

Their cheers of approval were muddled by Miles’ heart beating in his throat.

_Say if we ever meet again._

He yanked the back door open, AC hitting his flushed face as he slipped inside frantically. _Keys._

He bypassed both his parents and Hunter standing in the kitchen as he searched the counter tops. He needed his fucking car keys.

“What are you doing?” Hunter asked, disinterested. Miles barely registered his words or their stares.

He spotted the jeep key hanging on a hook on the wall and swiped it.

“Where are you going?” his mother asked.

“Back to school.” He was already rounding the counter island to leave the kitchen.

“Miles,” his father barked, and Miles ignored him. He tried to ignore him. “Miles!” his voice was stern and cutting and Miles couldn’t stop himself from freezing in place, key digging into the palm of his hand as he gripped it tightly.

He didn’t look. He didn’t want to look. 

He was brave. Chewy said he was brave.

“You’re not going back to school,” his father ground out. A fact.

Nothing was a fact.

“Fuck yeah, I am,” Miles mumbled, rotating the car key in his palm.

“You’re supposed to stay till Sunday, honey,” his mother tried, voice softer than his father’s.

“He’s not going anywhere,” Mr. Hollingsworth quieted his wife.

Miles turned around, swollen eyes finding his father’s, unblinking, unmoving. This was happening.

“Or what?” Miles challenged.

“I’m not going to let you-”

“You’re not going to let me what?” Miles cut him off. “Live my life?” He felt like laughing.

Hunter swiped whatever comic book he was reading at the breakfast bar and left the room. His mother looked between the two of them uneasily before following her youngest son.

“You’re a part of this family. You’re spending the rest of your break _here_ , with your mother and your brother and sister.”

“I’m going to spend the rest of my break trying to fix the one thing you made me ruin. And that’s not here.”

“What? Tristan?” his father, scoffed, brushing him off.

“I love him,” Miles grinned. The words never felt so right rolling out of his mouth. He wasn’t tongue-tied this time.

“You’re not gay, Miles. You said it yourself. You’re a selfish brat that will do anything to make me resent you and I’m not buying into it this time.”

“When have you ever bought into it?” Miles laughed manically. 

Mr. Hollingsworth slammed his hand down on the counter, the telltale sign that he was losing his cool and Miles was _living_ for it.

“Grow up, Miles! I’m not the one ruining your life! These childish games you play and lies you’re constantly telling are why nobody ever hangs around you for more than a week. It’s not because of me!”

Miles knew that. Miles knew that, and the realization was painful. But, he couldn’t blame anyone, but himself. His greatest fear- everything his dad said- was true.

“I give you everything. I pay for your food and clothes. I pay for this house. I pay your tuition, so you can go- what? Go fool around at school? And come back here to drive a wedge between this family? Your behavior’s gotten old, Miles!”

Everything? Everything, right?

Wrong.

“You’re just doing it for attention! You’re ungrateful and spoiled rotten-”

“Yeah, you give me everything except your fucking acceptance!” Miles snapped. His eyes were burning with tears he wouldn’t let spill. How could he accept himself when his father never would? “I never asked for anything from you! You can throw your money around all you want! You can stop paying my tuition! I don’t give a shit! It doesn’t make up for-” Miles’ voice caught in his throat and he gasped for a breath. His hands were shaking at his sides. “It doesn’t make up for you never giving an actual shit about me.” He looked away. He had to. His whole body was trembling.

He thought about what was important right now. Tristan. Tristan was the only thing that was important right now.

“I’m your father and-”

“I don’t need you,” Miles said, shaking his head.

Right?

Right.

“I’m going back to school to find Tristan whether you like it or not.”

He turned to leave, and his father reached for him. Miles jerked out of his way, turning around to stare deadly at him.

“Don’t touch me,” he warned lowly, glare unwavering.

Mr. Hollingsworth didn’t.

Miles clutched the car key tightly and headed for the front door.

He heard the muted electronic music coming from the backyard, the splashing and laughter of his friends in the pool as he jogged across the lawn.

_And, baby, just please don’t go without me._   
_I’m tired of doing it on my own._   
_And now I’m stuck here thinking what it could be._   
_You and me._

The beat dropped and so did his heart in his throat.

He breathed once he was in the Jeep, once he was turning the key in the ignition and rolling down the windows for fresh air as the radio came on. 

He could do this. He had to do this. He took a deep breath.

He breathed once he was putting the car into reverse and pulling out of the driveway of the lake house.

_But, just because I’m a mess doesn’t mean this has to end._   
_Oh, I deem it a certainty, you’ll never find such love again._

He wasn’t worthless. He’d taken things way too far, but he was done running. He was going to get the boy, no matter what it took, no matter how much it hurt. He wasn’t afraid.

He moved to change the radio station, but stopped to turn the volume up instead.

Tristan meant more to him than anyone could ever understand.

_Take another step, take another step back, don’t leave._   
_Look at where we’ve been through time._

What was so special about one boy? Everything.

_I’ll always value your life over mine._

He said goodbye to Lake Ontario. He said hello to the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took ten years, but I DON'T abandon my fics. It's summer and I'm free from college, so expect more. I love you all. smileshollingsworth on tumblr, come talk to me.


	10. Walking On A Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are ya ready

Tristan jolted awake to loud pounding on the door. He didn’t really move- _couldn’t_ really move- but he’d forgotten where he was for just a second. He’d forgotten the nightmare of yesterday and his unplanned return back to school, and for just a second, he thought this was any normal day. He thought he was okay. 

So, when he glanced around the room drearily, and everything quickly came crashing back to him, he remembered why his body ached painfully, why his eyes were so damn swollen from crying, why his heart was broken. And he _wasn’t_ okay.

Tristan didn’t care that some asshole was knocking on their door at a ridiculously early hour in the morning. He didn’t really care about anything anymore.

Instead, he sucked in a breath and pulled his comforter back over his head, closing his eyes, and letting himself try and find sleep again despite the pounding noise, because then at least, he couldn’t feel.

He forced his mind to go blank, barely acknowledging the sound of Josh grumbling incoherently and stumbling out of bed and stomping to the door before ripping it open.

“What the actual fuck?” his roommate practically screamed at whoever was on the other side, Tristan focusing only on his shaky breathing, his lingering sleep state.

There was a clap, the loud noise of a hand pushing the door back open before Josh could slam it shut in whoever’s face.

“Is he here? Stop- I need to see him! I just need to talk to him!”

That one voice- probably the only voice in the world that could break Tristan from whatever hold he had on trying to forget the world- had him sitting up instantly in bed, eyes shooting back open to land on Josh blocking the doorway, and he was suddenly awake- as awake as he could ever be.

“Shut the fuck up, he’s sleeping. Go piss off-” Josh grumbled sternly, blocking the person from looking into the room, but Tristan caught a glimpse of brown hair trying to duck around his roommate in the cracked door. He’d thought he’d been dreaming, but as sick and unreal as this felt, he was sure.

“No- Tristan! Tristan-” the unmistakable voice called.

Josh started pushing him. “Get the fuck out of here!”

“Josh-” Tristan croaked, barely recognizing his own voice. Hoarse was an understatement. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Josh- no-.”

His roommate froze where his whole body was up against Miles, pushing him out of the doorway, so he could try to close it in his face. Josh turned, stepping back to look at Tristan, keeping a firm hand on Miles’ chest, and that’s when Tristan saw him.

Green, bloodshot eyes were on him in an instant, heavy and unreadable and Tristan stared back dully. He didn’t know how to feel anymore. He was too cried out, but he still hurt and something else- that familiar thrumming in his chest that Tristan started to despise. Because he shouldn’t feel any sort of way towards Miles Hollingsworth anymore. He’d ended them.

But, suddenly Tristan was flashing back to a week ago, when Miles had stood in that very same doorway, bright eyes full of life and charm and so many promises- promises that had been broken. He remembered all the butterflies, the what ifs, the burn when Miles touched him. And he wished he could go back and do it all over again- because maybe he’d do it all differently, or maybe he wouldn’t change anything at all, but he’d still do it all _again_.

He wanted all the possibilities back, because now, Tristan’s heart just burned in a way he’d never experienced, like there was no life left in it, like his heart was already in hell. That choking throb, the same beat from a weak ago that started this whole fiasco, was still present, and strong, but unbearable all at the same time and he couldn’t take it.

“Tristan-” Miles said, stepping around Josh to get into the room and Josh snapped out of it in a second, turning back around to start pushing Miles again.

“No- No way! Out!”

Tristan watched the struggle for a moment, thoughts racing, and he really wished they wouldn’t, but why was Miles here? Spring break wasn’t over, and Miles had made it clear that the two of them _were_.

“Josh, stop-” Tristan said weakly, lips moving before his mind could catch up. He couldn’t watch this anymore, and maybe that meant he had to hear what Miles had to say. “Just stop. It’s fine.”

“Get your fucking hands off me, Jesus,” Miles grumbled, pushing the other boy away from him who finally relented at Tristan’s words. “Do you man handle everyone that comes into your room?”

“Only fucking assholes,” Josh sneered, watching Miles before looking at Tristan, eyebrows raised, asking him if he was sure about this. 

And no, Tristan would never be sure about breaking his heart impossibly more, but he nodded at him anyways.

Josh sighed roughly and straightened the t-shirt he’d slept in. He grabbed his pillow from his bed and shouldered past Miles. “I’ll be sleeping out in the floor lounge. You better watch yourself, Hollingsworth,” he warned, slipping out of the door and letting it fall shut behind him.

Tristan broke his gaze from burning green eyes to stare at his hands in his lap, fiddling with his comforter nervously. The room was suddenly so heavy under Miles’ unrelenting gaze, and Tristan could barely think. What was there left to be said? What was he doing here?

It was quiet for a long breathless moment, and he glanced up. Miles was just standing there in front of the door, gaping at him.

Tristan didn’t let himself drink the other boy in because everything about this was a bad idea. His chest was pounding dimly. He turned his gaze to the window, watching the sun just begin to rise and cast orange rays of light into the small room.

Tristan huffed out a long breath he’d been holding and tried not to let himself crumble. He waited.

“You are so beautiful,” Miles said, softly breaking the silence in the room.

Tristan looked back at him, breath catching in his tight throat and heart picking up painfully, eyes already wet and gleaming. He didn’t understand.

“Stop-” Tristan choked on the word, taking another shaky breath, looking back at his hands gripping the comforter over his lap. He looked like a mess.

Miles moved forward, shifting down on his knees in front of the bed to get at Tristan’s eye level. “No, you are _so beautiful_ ,” he repeated and let the words settle thickly in the air.

Tristan slowly looked up, meeting sparkling green eyes that had never left his face since they’d entered the room. Miles had said the words like he’d actually meant them, no crude humor, no teasing, no dishonesty. Maybe it was the first real thing he’d said since Tristan had met him, but it couldn’t be.

Tristan’s breath faltered again, and he picked up a hand to run through his own tangled hair, pushing it back from his face self-consciously. He was going to cry if Miles touched him.

Miles reached up a hand to touch Tristan’s face, but stopped, letting it hang in the air between them, watching him closely. Tristan was sure Miles could see right through him and he hated it.

“Why are you here?” Tristan whispered, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth to stop it from trembling.

Miles stared at him, eyes shining and tired. “Because I couldn’t stand the thought of being without you,” he said softly.

Tristan cracked, and Miles touched him, let his hand brush across the skin from his cheek to his chin. Tristan blinked the tears roughly from his eyes, letting them run down his face and Miles brushed them away quickly. He was shaking.

Miles moved his hand to run through Tristan’s hair, letting his other hand come up to hold Tristan’s face.

“Hey,” he said, trying to calm him, trying to get him to listen. “I didn’t know what I had until you were walking out the front door, and I was a moment too late,” Miles spoke lowly, meaningfully, holding his gaze. “But, I know _now_.”

Tristan’s heart throbbed as he looked at Miles. He wanted to believe it, but everything hurt.

He allowed his gaze to rake over Miles’ expression, over the exhaustion, but the sincerity- the need to fix something, Tristan wasn’t sure what. Miles was wired. Tristan could tell his eyes were stinging, just by the way he blinked. He hadn’t slept.

“Did you sleep?” he sniffed, and he wondered why he was suddenly concerned for Miles, protective over him, but here he was and maybe he always would be.

Miles’ eyebrows furrowed together, taken aback by the question like that should be the least of Tristan’s worries, and he was probably right. He shook his head slowly.

Miles had barely slept in two days, Tristan knew that because he’d spent the night before with him- the night Miles had spent thinking, and surely regretting. He needed to sleep.

“Stop crying,” Miles whispered tenderly, continuing to brush the tears away that continued to relentlessly fall from Tristan’s eyes. He couldn’t.

Miles licked his lips, letting his gaze fall for a second before returning, with even more resolve and power than before. He held Tristan’s face between his hands.

“I made a huge fucking mistake,” he said. “One that will live with me for the rest of my life if I don’t get to fix things between me and you.”

Tristan shook his head, fighting back the breathy sobs that were threatening to spill from his lips if they weren’t already. “I don’t want to be friends,” he said.

Miles shifted forward again, leaning over the bed closer to him and shook his head as he held him tighter. “You’ve only known me for a week, and you already know me better than anyone else I know. Better than my siblings and Chewy-” Miles’ voice caught in his throat, but he pushed through. “You’re my _best_ fucking friend, Tristan.”

Miles’ eyes were shining brighter, welling up with fresh tears and Tristan sniffed back his emotions, going quiet and trying to listen, trying to hold onto the feeling of Miles caring about him because it couldn’t be _real_.

“Everything you said was true. I felt _everything_ with you,” Miles said, staring into his fucking soul and Tristan tried to get a grip and tried not to have a heart attack from the way his chest was pounding. “Every word, every fucking kiss, and I lied to you. And I’ve been lying to myself even more, but I can’t _stand_ the thought of losing you.”

Tristan was crying harder, and Miles wasn’t letting him look away from him, not until every last word was out.

“And I don’t want to spend another moment of my life pretending that I don’t love you, Tristan.”

Tristan’s world stopped, or maybe it had stopped hours ago and now it was restarting. Because this was crazy, everything about this whole fucked up situation was crazy, and Miles couldn’t love him, couldn’t actually be in love with someone like him. But, he’d said it.

“What?” Tristan choked, blinking back tears to look at him more clearly.

“I love you,” Miles breathed. “And if you want to tell me to fuck off after this, that’s fine, but I need you to hear this first. I need you to know that ever since I first saw you, I knew you were somebody I wanted in my life. And maybe I didn’t realize at the time what that meant, but after this week- after getting to know the _real_ you- I _know_ that you are the person I want to be with.”

Miles sniffed, dropping a hand to rub the tears from his own eyes before returning it to Tristan and continuing, soft, yet important at the same time. 

“Because you don’t just make me a better person, you make me feel like my life is actually worth something and that despite how shitty things have been in the past, you make me feel like everything is going to be okay for once. And I was scared of that before, but I’m not now.” Miles brushed his thumbs softly across Tristan’s wet skin, looking at him like he hung the moon, and with the way his eyes settled on his it was difficult for Tristan not to believe him.

“I thought a lot after you walked out of that room yesterday,” he breathed softly. “And I just kept thinking about you and how fucking great you are inside and out and how much of a complete idiot I am for thinking I could ever get over someone like you because I don’t think I ever can,” he said, shaking Tristan’s head lightly between his hands. “And you- you, Tris, deserve to be loved and taken care of every day of your life, and I know I can’t give you everything you deserve, but I want to fucking try because I love you.” Miles meant it, those gleaming, unwavering eyes meant it. Tristan felt weak from the words, but Miles’ gaze looked so strong. “And I couldn’t let you walk out of my life before telling you that.”

Tristan couldn’t get his mouth or brain to work, couldn’t get his eyes to stop watering, but Miles’ touch felt warm and Tristan’s heart felt full.

Miles looked back and forth between his eyes, trying to read him, but this time unable to. He licked his lips and whispered between them, “You’re _it_ for me, do you understand that?”

Tristan _did_ understand that. He understood because he felt it, too and maybe he couldn’t understand why Miles had pushed him away or why he loved him of all people, but it was okay for now.

Tristan nodded and reached up, leaning forward to connect their lips and Miles met him eagerly.

It was gentle, the brush of their lips together, warm and comforting their shivers, wet from their tears, but it was perfect for them. Tristan’s hands in the nape of Miles’ hair, Miles’ holding his face as they kissed, softly and sweetly and upending at the same time.

Tristan pulled back to breathe, to catch his breath from crying and kissing and Miles was right there, brushing his cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, so soft and worn as they stared at each other.

And then they were kissing again, this time stronger and more desperate as Miles climbed onto the bed to get closer to him, knees on either side of Tristan’s lap on the mattress, and Tristan kept pulling him in by the back of the head until their chests were brushing, and Tristan’s heart was singing. 

Miles snaked his arms around Tristan’s back to hold him closer, parting lips and slipping tongues, and Tristan met him fervently- all slick lips and urgent licks and little pants.

Neither boys let up anytime soon. They kissed like they had all the time in the world and so much to take, and maybe this time, they actually did. Because they could finally have _this_. They could have all of this. There was no ticking time bomb on their make out, no audience, no question on whether or not this was real because it was. Miles’ hands on his back and tongue in his mouth and nose against his skin was one hundred percent _real_. There was no faking _this_.

Tristan kissed him until his lips were swollen and he was out of breath, and the words bubbling on the tip of his tongue were just too hard to repress. He had to pull back just to hear it.

“You love me?” he asked.

Miles nodded fiercely, bumping their noses together, breath on his lips and arms wrapped tightly around him.

“You don’t have to say it back. I just needed to tell you before my chest exploded.”

“I love you,” Tristan said, and it was easy. Despite everything else being so hard, saying those words was so easy. 

Miles suddenly looked uncertain- _heartbreakingly_ uncertain. His wide eyes were searching.

Tristan knew that doubt. He’d seen that self-doubt. 

He slid his hands from the back of Miles’ neck to cup his cheeks and hold him between his palms. “Stop,” he said. “I love you. Of course, I love you.”

Miles kissed him, slotting their lips together and pushing back into him, slow and warm, situating himself more on Tristan’s lap to get comfortable. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into Tristan’s mouth in between a kiss.

“I know,” Tristan whispered, pulling back just an inch, Miles’ gaze hooded on his lips. “I know you are, baby. It’s okay.”

He didn’t give Miles the chance to tell him it wasn’t. He closed the short distance once again with a searing kiss, swallowing the words on Miles’ tongue and threading his fingers through his short hair. 

They could talk later, about everything. Now, with exhaustion laying heavily on the both of them, they just needed to feel close. After these past couple of days, that’s all the two of them really needed in that instant- to be _close_.

Miles responded by pushing Tristan down slowly onto the bed, curling over him, not breaking the kiss. He knew what they both wanted, what they both needed.

They kept it slow and passionate, wandering hands and deep kissing- so much different from the last time they hooked up, but not any less passionate. They took their time, tongues trailing together and bodies pressing together, working each other up, sharing affection. And there was nowhere else Tristan wanted to be except underneath Miles, and he knew, for once, the brunette felt the exact same way with him.

One by one articles of clothing were shed until there was no fabric left between them, and nothing was stopping Miles from kissing Tristan’s bare skin and going down on him.

Tristan had thought it’d been good the last time, but it was a hell of a lot better when he knew for sure Miles cared about him and _would_ be taking care of him. Everything about it was new and breathtaking and heart stopping, and Tristan loved every second of it.

It was _so good_ , and he came quicker than imagined, and Miles’ sweet lips were back on his in a second, everything so blissful and genuine.

Tristan rolled them over to take care of Miles, reveling in every moan that left his lips and what was his. He was lucky, so lucky to have the gorgeous boy now beneath him, to be able to share something with him that he’d never felt before.

He’d planned for this day to be a whole lot worse. But, now he was happy, and his heart was mending, and he got to hold onto the one person in the world that he wanted to be with.

Being this close to Miles was special, both of them opening up for the other in ways they never had for anyone else before. It was raw and sincere, and countless blowjobs in the past could never compare because they were so utterly infatuated in each other.

When it was over, and they had lazily made out for some time, they curled up next to each other under Tristan’s comforter, and just breathed.

“What do we do now?” Miles asked softly, nose pressed into Tristan’s neck and arms wrapped tightly around him, never letting go.

He didn’t mean physically. He meant it figuratively, and Tristan knew their relationship had changed a lot this past week, and now it was in uncharted territory, words they had not spoken aloud beside the fact that they loved each other. They’d figure it out, Tristan knew they would. If they could get through the past twenty-four hours, they could get through anything.

Tristan brushed Miles’ soft hair back from his forehead and pressed a kiss there. “Now, you stop thinking and get some sleep.”

Miles seemed okay with that answer, nuzzling against Tristan’s shoulder and kissing his neck. “As long as you’re not going anywhere,” he whispered, and Tristan’s heart skipped painfully.

“Never,” he promised, lifting his other hand up to find Miles’ fingers and intertwine them with his own.

And that was enough of a promise for them to both close their eyes and find peaceful sleep together.

 

Tristan woke up hours later when the door to his dorm room cracked open. There was a quick spike of fear that it was Miles leaving, but when he felt the warm body still against his, and looked to see the brunette still fast asleep, he sighed to himself and smiled softly.

Josh was slipping quietly back into their room, watching Tristan and the sleeping boy in his bed with a humored expression. 

Tristan sat up, carefully disentangling himself from Miles as not to wake him. The brunette was completely knocked out, and probably would be for several more hours with the lack of sleep he’d been getting. Tristan knew he deserved to rest more than anything.

“Everyone decent?” Josh whispered with a quirk of his eyebrows, tossing his pillow back onto his bed.

Tristan looked down at his lap covered by his comforter. He chewed his lip and stifled a chuckle. “Not entirely.”

Josh laughed, and Tristan was quick to shush him. His roommate shook his head disbelievingly and with his thumb and index finger picked up the boxers discarded on the floor and tossed them at Tristan with another huff of laughter.

They were Miles’, but Tristan slipped them on anyways. 

Josh was still shaking his head as he moved to his desk to start packing his bong.

“So that happened, huh?” Josh remarked quietly, peering over his shoulder at Tristan with a shit-eating grin.

Tristan rolled his eyes and looked back at the sleeping brunette. It was still hard to believe himself. “Yeah, I guess it did.”

Josh moved to lean against his own bed and light up. “He actually looks like a decent guy when he’s sleeping,” he teased.

Tristan looked back at his roommate. “Yeah, maybe you can have a new smoking buddy,” he joked sarcastically, and they both laughed.

When the quiet laughter died down and Josh had taken a few hits, he asked, “You’re okay, though?”

Tristan thought about it for a moment and sighed. “Yeah, I’m okay.” He was more than okay, as long as Miles wouldn’t wake up and start rethinking everything between them again. But, he knew that wouldn’t happen- not this time. He wouldn’t let it.

Josh nodded, twirling the bong between his fingers. It was quiet for a minute before he spoke up again. “He’s good for you, though? I mean, after everything that happened, it’s okay?”

Tristan smiled at his roommate. It was one of those serious conversations they rarely had, but when they happened, it was because they were looking out for each other. They had each other’s backs and Tristan was glad for it.

“Yeah,” he nodded reassuringly. “It’s okay.”

Josh smiled back. “Good.” And with that, the seriousness was gone, and he went back to lighting his bong and blowing smoke into the air.

Tristan turned his attention back to Miles, reaching out to stroke his hand softly against the other boy’s cheek, still careful not to wake him. He was so calm and beautiful, laying there with his nose turned into Tristan’s pillow, breath heavy. Tristan smiled at the boy he loved.

“You know that song from Shrek?” Josh spoke up again, ditching the bong to begin ruffling through his backpack.

Tristan turned back to him with a laugh, ready to humor the random shit that poured out of his roommate’s mouth whenever he was stoned. “What?”

“That song from Shrek, you know, when they fall in love?” He looked at him expectantly.

“What? Allstar?” Tristan raised his eyebrows. He was lost on this one. “Are you calling me dumb?”

“No! Jesus,” Josh shook his head incredulously and then he held out his hands with a wide grin. “Accidentally in love… Accidentally in loveeee,” he sang horridly.

Tristan burst out laughing and covered his mouth to muffle the sound. Now he knew what his roommate was getting at, and the thing was, he was absolutely right. Miles and him _were_ accidentally in love.

Tristan shook his head with a warm smile. “Are you calling me an ogre?”

“No, I’m calling Miles one,” Josh piped.

Tristan huffed another laugh and rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

He looked back at Miles, fast asleep in his bed, and laid back down to curl up next to him.

Whether it was accidentally, or complete luck, or plain old fate that they’d fallen in love, Tristan was just fucking glad that it happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> college life is walking into your dorm room when ur roommates in bed with someone and going about your routine like normal you can quote me on this
> 
> miles mightve gone a little ooc there idrk anymore
> 
> i am a pathological liar when it comes to updates yall should know this by now
> 
> im gonna finish this tho i promise
> 
> smileshollingsworth on tumblr if ya wanna talk 
> 
> love ya bitches


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